Steel Doors and Concrete Walls:Part 3
by BuffyAngel68
Summary: An ending for some, new beginnings for others....
1. Default Chapter

Part 3/Chapter 1  
  
  
"Hello. You awake?"  
  
"You didn't actually think I'd be able to sleep did you?"  
  
"I was hoping. No worries. I've got mild sedatives if you need them. Strawberry as per your request." he said, handing her the soy shake then digging into his satchel for the stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff.  
  
"Get those things away from me."  
  
"It's this or the I.V. Take your choice."  
  
The ugly glare she gave him told him her decision. "I thought you might. Drink your dinner. I'll be done here in a minute. Hmmm. Better than it was earlier. By tomorrow morning you should be nearly back to normal." he informed her, stowing his equipment again and moving to his chair at the table. "Now. Feel like answering that question we never got to before?"  
  
"Which was?"  
  
"You're stalling."  
  
Another nasty look shot his way, but she answered.  
  
"I was my fathers' administrative assistant at Corporate."  
  
"Fascinating, but what did you do?"  
  
"A million and one little things he didn't have the time or patience to deal with; scheduling, banking, personal shopping."  
  
"What are your degrees in again?"  
  
"Poli. Sci., Business Management and Accounting plus Masters Certificates in Theoretical Math, Chemistry and International Finance."  
  
"Dare I say the F word?"  
  
"Not if you want to stay conscious."  
  
"I didn't mean that one. You were a flunky. All that knowledge and what were you doing with it; running your legs to bloody stumps doing the garbage he couldn't be bothered with while he played "Lord of All I Survey" and arranged the abduction of more innocent children."  
  
The intense death ray scowl she shot Methos said he was putting her feet too close to the fire, but he didn't back off completely. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice, girl. If you didn't know then, you do now."  
  
"Whatever did or didn't happen wasn't his choice. His word isn't law at the Centre. He.... we all take our orders from someone higher up."  
  
"Yes, yes. I know. Tower and Triumvirate. It can't last. I know you understand that. All that power and influence and weight... anything that top heavy can't help but collapse in on itself, flattening everyone underneath in the process. Then the PTB's will pick themselves out of the rubble, cluck their tongues at the carnage and stroll off to do it again somewhere else."  
  
"Smug and arrogant is easy when you have not the slightest clue what you're talking about."  
  
"Don't I? Go on. Tell me you haven't been hearing the creaking in the walls and seeing stress cracks in the ceiling for months now."  
  
"You're an idiot."  
  
"And you're the most evasive person I've ever attempted a conversation with. Answer the question for once."  
  
Glaring at her hands, Parker was silent at first, trying to ignore Sydney's words ringing in her head, echoing the sentiment Methos had just confronted her with.  
  
"Sydney's been saying the same thing for a while. Never when a camera or a mike could pick him up and never that bluntly, but.... he has said it. He's yet to convince me."  
  
"Why not? I can see that you agree with us, in part at least."  
  
"The place is my life. It's all I've ever known. I can't just accept.... Damn. I don't know why."  
  
Rising, Methos walked to the cot and crouched beside Parker, setting her cup on the floor. As he talked, he held her hands lightly.  
  
"The life of a human being isn't supposed to revolve around a building, love. Without people who care about you and something, or someone, outside yourself that *you* genuinely care about, where are you?"  
  
"What the hell good are people and caring? You trust, you put yourself on the line and what do you get for it? Kicked in the head, yet again. It's not worth it. Not anymore." she responded, turning away from his eyes.  
  
Reaching up a hand to her face, he turned her head back and held her chin gently but firmly.  
  
"Listen carefully, alright? I'm going to reveal a fact of life that most of us learned as children, those allowed to *be* children that is. Are you hearing me?"  
  
Parker nodded. "Good. Here it is. Not everyone who loves you will leave you, noone you've lost left because they wanted to and it has never, ever been your fault."  
  
Realizing that the audacity of his words should have aroused near-homicidal rage within her, Parker reached once again for the anger she fed off, the only one of her emotions she had always been in full touch with. The result was the same as before. Suddenly knowing she was about to cry, Parker twisted her whole body away from Methos and tightly squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would contain the tears.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"What do you think?! Why did you do this to me? You screwed me up worse than he did!"  
  
"Tell me what I did. Help me understand."  
  
"That stupid visualization! If you don't fix it, I'm going to go crazy, shred that door with my fingers, hunt the three of you down and kill you all in different ways!"  
  
"I told you, I didn't shut it off, I can't make it work again."  
  
"You don't understand. I need.... my anger. I can't connect with it. My mind keeps telling me that I should be ripping you apart right now, but I can't get angry!"  
  
"Then tell your mind to bloody well shut up. Rage is the last thing you need at the moment. What you need is to get quiet and serene for a while and that'll never happen with all this turmoil going on in your head. When will you learn to just let it go? Once your mind clams up, you'll be able to hear what your heart is saying, and trust me, it's a message you need to get." Methos told her, rising to his full height. "You get some sleep. I'll be checking on you through the night."  
  
The attack from behind a moment later wasn't totally unexpected. When she'd spoken of being unable to touch her anger, the tone of pure desperation in her voice had told him she'd do anything to change the situation. Turning around, he allowed her to back him against the door, his hands at his sides, his voice and expression deliberately neutral.  
  
"You're wasting your time. I won't fight you and even if I did it wouldn't gain you what you want. Hurting me won't make your pain go away, but you do what you have to."  
  
For the next twenty minutes, Methos did nothing while Parker beat him into near unconsciousness, inflicting new bruises and lacerations faster than the ones she'd already inflicted could heal. The assault continued until Macleod happened to look at the monitor, grabbed Jarod and came to the rescue, Duncan pulling Parker away while Jarod walked Methos out of the cell, supporting most of his weight, and shut the door.  
  
As they moved down the hall Methos recovered somewhat and began to walk instead of stumbling.  
  
"Are you insane? What were you thinking?"  
  
"I'll heal. She had to see.... that her anger is.... owww! is useless to her.... unless she points in the right direction.... and that she won't get back in touch with it.... until she does... I think she broke my cheekbone."  
  
Lowering the other slowly to the sofa, Jarod dropped beside him, probing gently at his face.  
  
"Feels like it. It's healing already though. So. Is she ready for the last stage?"  
  
"Almost. One more session and her head'll be where I want it. I've got her thinking about her father. Next it's her mother, then we throw the immersion at her. "  
  
"It has to work. I can't let her keep on like she is. The cigarettes, the booze.... she's been trying to kill herself and she doesn't know it."  
  
"Yeah. The ulcer as well, exacerbated by the alcohol and the pent up fury. That's come the closest to doing her in from what you've said."  
  
"Absolutely." Jarod responded sadly, rising and wandering toward a window. "She's so strong, so capable. It seems strange to think that to save my life, I have to do the one thing she's not willing or able to do."  
  
"Which would be?" Methos asked.  
  
"Save herself."  
  
Silently admitting the irony Jarod had pointed out, Methos stood, walked to his friend and watched the sun set with him, an arm around his shoulder, his heart, he suddenly realized, firmly in Jarod's back pocket.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The following morning, Jarod nearly leaped into the kitchen, ready to get on with the day and was immediately disappointed by Methos, who, delighting in playing big brother, insisted he sit and eat.  
  
"But...."  
  
"No. Time enough for all things Parker after breakfast. Sit and get started on your porridge. The steak and scrambled aren't quite ready."  
  
Seating himself, Jarod looked at the bowl in front of him with obvious distaste and pushed it a few inches away.  
  
"It's alright. I'll wait."  
  
"Trust me. This is like nothing they ever fed you in that seaside insane asylum. Give it a shot before you toss it overboard."  
  
Reluctantly, Jarod retrieved the bowl and dipped his spoon as shallowly into the contents as he could. His first tentative sip surprised him greatly and within a few minutes the bowl was clean.  
  
"How did you do that? I never knew porridge could taste good!"  
  
"A little cognac in the milk and fresh apple and honey added just before serving. Nothing to it."  
  
"More?"  
  
"With the steak and eggs? Sorry. I forgot I was talking to the original bottomless pit. Sure. Come and get it."  
  
"What are the apples soaking in?"  
  
"More cognac, some lemon juice and ice water. Keeps them from browning and flavors them at the same time."  
  
"Another cooking lesson. Don't you two ever get enough?" Macleod chuckled as he entered and sat down to his own meal.  
  
"Never." Jarod responded happily. "Learning expands your brain capacity. The more you learn, the more you're able to learn."  
  
"Is that so? Then why can't he learn when to stop needling me and avoid a boot to the head?"  
  
"I'd have to want to learn Mac, and annoying you is one of the few sources of pure enjoyment left in my life."   
  
Gazing from one to the other and back, Jarod grinned.  
  
"You two have the most unusual, backwards friendship I think I've ever seen." he commented.  
  
Twisting the shaker with Parker's breakfast in it back and forth, Methos grinned at the words.  
  
"Sometimes. Doesn't mean we wouldn't put it on the line for each other anytime, anywhere."  
  
"We have done. Many times."  
  
"Yeah. We have haven't we." Methos echoed, his expression softening in a way he rarely allowed it to anymore in front of anyone but Macleod. Walking past Duncan, he bent, whispered into his friend's ear then strolled out the door.  
  
Refilling his bowl, Jarod served himself from the frying pan and joined Macleod at the table, a confused smile playing around his lips.  
  
"Do you mind if I ask?"  
  
"It wasn't important. Just a reminder of something I already knew."  
  
"Oh." Jarod replied, smiling brightly as he looked up. "It's still nice to hear once in a while."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, it is."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
"Morning, sunshine. We up yet?"  
  
When Parker didn't respond, he rushed to where she sat, knees to her chest, on the bed.  
  
"Are you alright? Talk to me."  
  
"I'm fine. You look a lot better than you should."  
  
"Most of the damage is under fabric at the moment. I could barely crawl out of bed this morning. Breakfast?"  
  
Quietly accepting the shaker from his hand she popped the top off and sipped at it, studying his eyes.  
  
"Answer a question."  
  
"If I can."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I'm not the one you're really pissed at. I was trying to show you that taking it out on me, or any other innocent bystander for that matter, won't get you anywhere."  
  
"I've been through this a million and one times. I'm angry with my mother for dying and my father for not loving me enough and sending me away. How close am I?"  
  
"Keep going. You'll get there."  
  
This earned him a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Novel approach. It'll get you about as far as anything else, but at least you show some originality."  
  
Pacing back and forth in front of Parker, Methos studied her carefully, trying to read beyond her outward expression of boredom and her ever-present lets-get-on-with-it-shall-we attitude.  
  
"It's there you know. You've buried it about ten miles down, but it is there. It's part of what's eating you alive from the inside out."  
  
Parker fought not to let his taunt reach her, tried not to even look at him, but it was only seconds before her exasperation took over.  
  
"What? Just say it, will you? What have I buried so deep even I don't know it's there? Hmmm?"  
  
Abruptly stopping the pattern he'd been walking, Methos locked her eyes to his, waiting until he had her full attention, then he responded.  
  
"Everything. Near enough, anyway."  
  
Turning toward the table he dropped into his usual chair, crossed his legs, folded his hands and waited for her to move the conversation forward. Eventually, she did.  
  
"Love-15. Your point." she acknowledged, her voice low and dripping menace. "Everything means...."  
  
"Just that. Who you really are, who you could have been, your spirit, a large chunk of your conscience and your heart all got trash-compacted into this neat little square. You dumped it in a hole, threw in the first shovel full of dirt and walked away, telling yourself it was best for everyone. Anything you were leaving behind you'd never need again anyway, so no big deal. Right?"  
  
"Right."   
  
"Wrong. See, the thing about burying vital parts of yourself is that you bury them alive. Can't get around it. You bury anything alive you've almost got a dead bang guarantee it'll go zombie on you. Whatever you get rid of like that is bound to show up on your doorstep demanding payback, and trust me sweetheart, bitch doesn't even half describe what you'll find when you open the door."  
  
"Your concern moves me, but my secrets and I are status-quo at the moment. Thanks for the free analysis, though."  
  
"I have to disagree."  
  
"Oh, do you really?"  
  
"Afraid so. You didn't think you only buried positive stuff did you? Under that is the compost heap and the nasty emotional garbage we all try to screen out or, if it's putrid enough, bury as deep as we can manage and pretend it doesn't exist. In your case it's mostly made up of feelings you either can't face or can't make fit your world view jigsaw puzzle."  
  
"How dare you presume to know me...."  
  
"No presuming about it. I've seen a hundred like you, some better some far worse. I don't have to presume. You aren't just angry with Catherine. Somewhere in there is a tiny crumb of hate you reserve just for her. Leaving you wasn't bad enough; she left you with him and a secret you didn't know what to do with. You only knew you couldn't let him find out. Then there's the trip. She'd never broken a promise to you before that day.  
Suddenly, she's gone and so is the flight to Europe. Oh, and we mustn't forget the final dash of salt she threw in your eyes. She had the audacity to die right in front of you, leaving you with her murder branded on your memory for the rest of your life. Didn't even possess the decency to die in private, did she? Talk about gall...."  
  
When Parker came him for him this time, Methos was ready. Grasping her forearms to prevent the loss of his eyes to her fingernails, he held her off solidly but spoke to her in soothing tones in deference to the tears he could see her trying to suppress. "It's okay. You're allowed here. Cry all you want. Noone's going to slice you to ribbons for it."  
  
"Son of a..... the minute you let me go I'll kill you....."  
  
"Didn't work yesterday and it won't work now. You don't want to hurt me or yourself anymore. Don't see me. See the one you really want to talk to."  
  
"Shut up! Let... me.... go!"  
  
Tearing out of Methos' grip, Parker stumbled back to the cot and slumped down facing away from him, her body shaking almost invisibly as she tried to rein in the sobs that threatened to shake her to pieces.  
  
Walking to her, he placed one hand in the center of her shoulders. When she didn't shake him off, he slid that hand back and forth, comforting her the best he could.  
  
"You need to say it, love. You have to tell her how much you hurt, get rid of the pain and the darkness once and for all. Take back the soul that place and those people have stolen from you. It's already so ill and so damaged.... If you let them keep it you'll never be whole. Take it back before they destroy it forever."  
  
Her trembling subsiding, Parker stood and moved away from Methos' touch. Knowing it was time to let her be, he grabbed her empty cup and left the room.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I still say Jarod should have the extra few hours."  
  
"She needs the isolation. The more time we give her to contemplate her navel, the better."  
  
"Alright. Put it this way. He deserves the time. He's been way beyond patient and forgiving."  
  
Considering for a moment, Methos made a partial concession.  
  
"Alright, but not all of it. A half-hour more than what he asked for and that's it. I want her to get worried about what's going on out here. Let her wonder whether we just left her. It'll make her all the more grateful to see Jarod when he does show up."  
  
His face expressing worry of its own, Macleod shook his head slightly and walked away.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
BLUE COVE:  
  
"I told you last night what I think and I'll say it again. It'll never work! Raines' nose is already in the wind. If I spit on the sidewalk, he's gonna know!"  
  
"I swear to you, you will be safe. It's the only way to save your life."  
  
"But me? And Jarod? I mean.... he's.... Jarod."  
  
"You're afraid of him? I don't understand. You know Jarod is a good, kind man...."  
  
"Not anymore I don't. Every bad guy he's taken down over the last few months has been hurt a little worse. He keeps takin' it closer to the edge. Don't try and tell me you haven't noticed Syd. I know you have. I was there the last time. A quarter-inch closer with that saw and that timber foreman would have spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Jarod almost cut his legs off, Sydney. As it is he left him with a couple ugly wounds that'll take months and maybe some skin grafts to get them to heal. So, yeah. He scares me."  
  
"But he will heal, and in the federal penitentiary where he belongs. Jarod would never have gone that far, Broots. I know him. He's a stable personality. He follows predictable paths to his goals and takes predictable steps along those paths."  
  
"Did you predict him shanghaiing miss Parker?"  
  
"No, of course not, but there were other factors involved...."  
  
"Enough excuses, Syd. He's not a little boy anymore. You can't explain away every wrong thing he does and you can't save him from himself if he decides to self-destruct... He's been in the world for a while now. He knows the rules. What if my vision wasn't of the Centre after all?" Broots theorized. "What if he's gonna end up in a looney bin for real instead of playing like he did before, and my going to be with him is what puts him there?"  
  
Rising from his chair, Sydney moved to sit beside Broots on the couch.  
  
"Listen. Part of the reason I went back to the Centre yesterday was to e-mail Jarod. He knows what happened to you.... and I told him about your first vision."  
  
"You what? Damn it, Sydney that was the last thing he needed to hear! With Miss Parker and his own emotional stuff tangling up his feet he doesn't need mine too."  
  
"It's the only way. I couldn't ask him to shelter you without knowing what he was getting into. This will have to happen soon. If Raines were to discover your abilities and how you acquired them he would never stop until you were back in the Centre under his control. This may be the only way I can get you clear of the fall-out from what I've done. I won't let my best friend be destroyed."  
  
Squashing the rage he was so unaccustomed to feeling, Broots rose to his feet abruptly.  
  
"Too late, Syd. Lyle set me up for that five years ago. I'm gonna go talk to Terri some more. Even if she doesn't know the whole story, she's good at makin' me feel like less of a freak. You want us to go in the bedroom so we won't bug you?"  
  
"No, no. Stay out here. I want to be close by in case of.... whatever."  
  
"Whatever, huh? Nice, safe substitute word. You meant to say 'in case another vision drags me into hell and I can't get back on my own.' "  
  
"You know, you don't have to let this become a demon out to destroy you, Chris. You could do so much good with your gift. You could save lives."  
  
"Gift? No. If it was a gift I could refuse it or return it or exchange it for something I really wanted. No, this is more like herpes. It goes away, then it comes back and there's no cure."  
  
"I wish you could see the truth of what you've been given. An evil source doesn't always produce an evil product. Look at Raines and Angelo."  
  
"Bad example, Syd. Really bad. Angelo may not be evil but they've messed him up so bad he'll never leave the Centre again. They could tell him he's free to go, show him the open door and all he'd do is squint at the sun and run back inside. Even if he wasn't Raines' pet.... he's still a prisoner."  
  
To this argument, Sydney had no rebuttal.   
  
"Should I tell Jarod you're coming?" Sydney inquired as Broots moved off again.  
  
The answer took a long time, but eventually Broots responded.  
  
"If it means Debbie and I can be together and safe.... yeah. I'll do it."  
  
"Good. You've made the right choice."  
  
"My only choice."  
  
"You're right, unfortunately. I wish there was another way."  
  
"Me too. See you... whenever I get up."  
  
"If you need an aspirin...."  
  
"You'll hear about it. I think it's getting better."  
  
"Find peace, my friend."  
  
As the bedroom door clicked shut, Sydney drew a deep, slow breath, released it and let his gaze fall, coming to rest on a drawer in the base of the coffee table. Leaning down to open it, he slid out a Bible and sat back again, hefting it in his hands as if testing the weight. What he was really considering was the ultimate cost of trying to reestablish a faith he had long ago abandoned in favor of science and the surety it provided. Letting the book fall open on his lap, he turned the frangible pages gently until he found what he was searching for.  
  
Laying one hand over the page that held the Twenty-Third Psalm, he began to recite it softly in French. When he finished, he spoke what he remembered of the Lord's Prayer then composed a personal missive to what he had once believed was only empty sky. Having no other source of protection and guidance to turn to, Sydney prayed from the depths of his soul, hoping against hope that the heavens were not as barren as he had convinced himself they must be so many years before when he had first walked through the doors of the Centre.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"What do you mean have I seen him? Where is he?"  
  
"I don't know sir. I checked the west wing personally and I'm in contact with three other men who've checked east, north and south. They had no success either. We will go floor by floor of course, in case he's down on one of the sub-levels, but.... he appears to have vanished."  
  
"Vanished. I'm beginning to despise that word. If I didn't know better I'd think the command staff of this complex were all training to be magicians! Start the sub-level search immediately. Check everywhere even vaguely large enough for him to hide in. You did check to make sure his car is still here?"  
  
"Yes. Of course we..."   
  
The young security officer stopped himself, a concerned look on his face.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well.... it was a distance verification, Doctor Raines, sir. Noone has looked to be sure Mister Parker isn't in the car."  
  
"Well do it you imbecile! He could be hurt or ill! Go now! Report what you find only to me. Is that clearly understood?"  
  
"Yes sir, Doctor Raines, sir." the officer replied before running off, speaking rapidly into his two-way radio.  
  
Around a corner not ten feet from where Raines had stood just moments before, Mister Parker waited until the squeak of the oxygen tank's wheels had faded out completely before peering out into the corridor. He had spent all morning avoiding the men sent to look for him as he moved around the Centre, collecting pieces he had scattered in a hundred different hiding places all over every level of the building.  
  
Now that he had them together again, the trick was getting them, and himself, to the safety of his office, just a few terrifying feet of open ground away. Making absolutely sure noone was approaching, he rushed across the hall, his steps echoing and the computer disks and DSA's in his pocket rattling so loudly he was sure everyone in the complex could hear.   
  
As he entered, he flicked on the lights then touched a concealed button just beneath the switch that sent the cameras in his office into a feedback loop of his creation. It showed him going about normal tasks and moving around the office, while he finished his real morning's work in private. Striding to his desk, he sat and punched in the code that opened his left hand desk drawer, placed the material he'd gathered inside it, closed it again and changed the code.  
  
He knew too well that any Centre executive insisting on secured drawers or file cabinets was required to submit copies of the keys or electronic codes to the Tower, and half a dozen others, and resubmit when they were changed.  
Only he could now open this Pandora's box. He could only pray he would never be questioned on it. His single strand lifeline was now in that drawer and he didn't intend to see it break.   
  
No matter what happened, the information the disks contained would keep him alive and in his position for as long as he wanted to stay, but only if he could maintain the secret of their existence and location. He had gone on his gathering mission this morning after finally admitting to himself that the periods of blankness and lost hours were happening much more often lately, and that he could no longer be totally sure of his ability to keep any of his secrets.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
SEACOUVER  
  
"You're absolutely sure we should wait so long?"  
  
"I told you, she has to stew. Let her go a little crazy." Methos reassured him.  
  
"Lunch is all set."  
  
"Great. I'll go get Jarod. I want to see what he's been doing with the stereo up there anyway."  
  
"Look, don't bug him. Just bring him to lunch. It's his project. Let it stay that way."  
  
"You know what he's up to don't you?"  
  
"Not really. I have some small idea. He wouldn't talk about it."  
  
"So?"  
  
"I said it's his business. I'm not prying and don't you either."  
  
Knowing Macleod well enough to back off well in advance of a blow up, Methos smoothly shifted subjects.  
  
"You still in this with me tonight? Eleventh hour, mate."  
  
"I'm in. I don't like it anymore, but I'm in. I see more humanity in her now. If she were still the ice queen.... it maybe wouldn't put my back up so much to hurt her like we're going to."   
  
"Hurt to heal. This was your idea, if you remember right. Only good one you've had in a long while too..."  
  
"Forget it. You can't insult me into a good mood this time."  
  
"Who said anything about cheering you up? Your good ideas are very few and far between and you've never had a great one. And let's not even approach your I.Q....."  
  
Despite the thundercloud looming over his head, Duncan finally smiled, gently wrapping his hands around Methos' neck from behind and shaking him a bit.  
  
"Fine. I'll lighten up a little. I know it's for the greater good."  
  
"Now you're getting it. On second thought, why don't you go rouse Jarod? I think I'll put a salad together."  
  
"Make it Greek. It'll go well with the lamb chops."   
  
Heading for the stairs, Mac stopped and called Methos back. "Hey. Did you mean it.... what you said in the kitchen this morning?"  
  
"Wouldn't have said it otherwise."  
  
"Hmm. Okay."  
  
"And what exactly does "Hmm. Okay" mean?"  
  
Moving back to Methos' side, Duncan whispered in his ear, then turned back to the stairs.  
  
"Ditto? What the hell is ditto?"  
  
"The movie's in the rack in the T.V. room. I'll throw it in the VCR for you when all this is over."  
  
"What movie?"  
  
"Ghost, you Hollywood-magic deprived little twit. We'll be right down."  
  
As he neared Jarod's room, Macleod could vaguely detect a heavy bassline pumping from the small stereo Jarod had bought himself not long before. Peeking in, he found the other man sitting on the floor, one leg tucked close to him, the other stretched out, and headphones pressed to his ears with both hands. So as not to scare him Duncan stepped into the room and into Jarod's field of vision and waited to be noticed.  
  
"Duncan. I'm so glad you're here." he enthused, pulling off the headphones and remotely stopping the music. "Explain this to me." he said, handing the Scot the jewel case for the CD he was currently listening to.  
  
"Metallica? Sorry, son. As far as I'm concerned, there is no explanation for heavy metal, and no excuse either."  
  
"I don't mean that. Explain how they know."  
  
"Know what? How to blow their fans eardrums apart?"  
  
All he got was a reproachful look this time. "Alright, alright. What are you asking me?"  
  
"Take out the paper inside the cover and look... here it is. Look at the lyric for "Until it Sleeps".  
  
Removing and unfolding the paper insert, Macleod found the song and began to read pieces of the lyric out loud.  
  
"Rip me open, but beware, there's things inside without a care.... the dirt still stains me.... hold me 'till it sleeps. Jarod....."  
  
"Just tell me how they know what I'm feeling. There's this negative charge building up inside me. It doesn't seem like it could possibly be that easy.... that if I just had someone to hold me.... all the pain and the anger.... and the fear would just go to sleep."  
  
Crossing the room, Duncan crouched by Jarod, laying a hand on his shoulder to soften the blow of his words.  
  
"It isn't easy, Jarod. They don't really know anything. It's just a song."  
  
"No. I don't believe it. It's more than that. Sydney was always so reserved. I know he wanted to care for me, treat me like his son, but he couldn't let himself. If he'd shown the slightest sign of losing his objectivity, they would have...."  
  
"I know. Doctor oxygen. Go on."  
  
"I didn't understand. Not then anyway. It's taken me all this time away from the Centre to gain perspective on... on our relationship. Sydney was doing the kindest thing he could.... by not caring."  
  
"He made them happy and kept you from a worse hell than the one you were already in."  
  
"He didn't see my life like that, but you're right. When I was still little, I must have climbed into his lap a thousand times. He put me down, he yelled, he even spanked me. I wouldn't stop. I couldn't. Finally he stopped coming to see me. The only person I saw for an entire week was the guard who brought my meals. After that.... I understood. I never tried to get close to him again. When he realized, years later, that I was still emotionally attached to him, he shut that down too, and.... I lost something. I don't know if I'll ever get it back, Duncan."  
  
"Jarod. C'mon man." he implored, gesturing with the insert, "This is just words on paper...."  
  
Growling, Jarod pulled away from Macleod and leapt to his feet.  
  
"I'm sorry. I was wrong to ask. I thought you'd understand... that you could help me understand." he seethed, venting a crumb of his inner torment by fiercely lobbing the headphones at the far wall. "There's something wrong inside me.... Something unbalanced and.... and violent keeps pushing aside my rational thoughts and my control when I get angry. I end up doing more.... going further than I mean to. This last time.... I realized what I was about to do just before I cut a man's legs off at the knees with an industrial saw. I could have killed him.... or left him in a wheelchair for life."  
  
In his frustration, Jarod stalked to the window and pounded the glass once with the palms of his hands. From his position several feet away, Macleod felt, more than heard, the window frame rattle, a vivid reminder of Jarod's strength. Moving to stand behind Jarod, he began to press and roll his fingers and the heels of his hands into his friend's shoulders, hoping to calm him and soothe his skyrocketing tension.  
  
"Did you do it?"  
  
"No, but...."  
  
"Uh-uh. No qualifiers. Did you step over? Is the line at your heels or isn't it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then do something before it's too late. Once you make the choice to leave the nursery.... there's no turning around. Some things you can't go back and make better. You have to decide whether to walk into the darkness on your own ticket, or fight it every time it tries to drag you back in...."  
  
Feeling Jarod's muscles suddenly go rigid under his hands, Macleod opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but had no time to even form the first word. In a blur of motion Jarod tightened his hand into a fist and slammed it through the glass pane it had been resting on, showering the planting below with shards of glass and drops of his blood.  
  
"Jarod! What the... Here. Come sit down." Macleod told him, leading him to a chair and wrapping a piece torn from his shirt around the injured hand to try and stop the bleeding. "Was that really necessary, hmmm? You could have gone down and hit the punching bag, you silly bugger. Jarod. Are you hearing me? Bloody great. Not a sign of life."  
  
Wondering what could possibly be taking so long, Methos started up the stairs just in time to hear the glass shatter. Racing into the room, he stared wonderingly at the two men at the desk then swept in to take over Jarod's care.  
  
"Looks like he put it straight through. Told you he was strong." Methos commented, lifting Jarod's injured hand as gently as he could. The movement pulled Jarod out of his shock stupor with a full voice scream. "Good. You're back." Methos greeted him, wincing and wishing he'd had a free hand to protect his ear. "Relax, alright? You're not hurt badly. A broken bone or two, maybe, but otherwise you're just fine."  
  
"It hurts...."  
  
"I know. Lord, he's got cuts halfway up the forearm. I have to really examine the hand, Jarod. Be tough here, okay? Not too bad. Feels like you busted your index finger.... and the knuckle on the ring finger. Could have been loads worse. I'll go get my bag. You try and stay calm and still. Don't go moving that hand around."  
  
Macleod waited until Methos left to question Jarod.  
  
"Alright. Feel like telling me what happened?"  
  
"I don't know." Jarod replied, sounding uncannily like a small child, frightened more than hurt and worried he'll be punished for an accident that wasn't his fault.  
  
"You're not sure why you did it or you can't remember doing it?"  
  
"I don't remember. Tape's been edited. Those few seconds are gone."  
  
"We were talking and you suddenly tensed up; way up. Then you put your fist through the window."  
  
"I did what?"  
  
"Turn just your head, not your body, and look over where we were standing."  
  
Seeing the shattered pane of glass, Jarod's heart flooded with guilt and remorse.  
  
"I... I'm so sorry, Duncan. I'll pay for it. I swear I will."  
  
"None of that. Glass is fixable. You, I'm getting worried about. Between what you were saying earlier about not always being in control and hurting yourself like this...."  
  
"I can't stop. You know that. Too many people need me."  
  
"Whatever happened to you needing you? Besides. Boris and Natasha have come to rely on your stings as a surefire method of finding you. Take it away from them for a while. Take a break, stay here. Let the two of us help you work through some things."  
  
"No. You've had enough of other peoples' problems and mental scorched earth stuff lately. I'll stay, but...."  
  
Jarod censored his next words as Methos reentered the room, carrying his medical bag and Jarod's laptop.  
  
"Your 'puter was ringing." he said by way of explanation. Setting it down on the desk next to Jarod's good hand, he sat again and began to work on the other. "I'm going to have to set the breaks so brace yourself. Starting in now...."  
  
As Methos straightened the broken fingers, Jarod found Duncan's shoulder and gripped it ferociously. "Good. Strong boy. I'm almost done. Let me splint these and clean up the cuts and we can all go down for lunch."  
  
Leaning his head back, Jarod began to slow his breathing and heart rate, trying to calm himself and clear his mind. The result of the attempt was a question.  
  
"Duncan?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Who are those two people you mentioned?"  
  
"People?"   
  
"Boris and Natasha."  
  
Chuckling, Duncan neatened Jarod's hair a little as he answered.  
  
"I'll show you after lunch. I think you'll recognize them."  
  
"Oh. That would be.... great.... " he replied, hissing through his teeth, but not complaining as Methos disinfected multiple scrapes and cuts. Never one to be a coward about pain, he, nevertheless, decided to begin a meditation to take his mind a short distance away from the stinging and the irritation.  
  
Taking advantage of Jarod's inattention Methos shot a look of deep concern at Duncan, who held his friends eyes for a moment, returning the worry, then turned and gazed at the broken window, wondering how he could ever have believed it was peace Jarod sought when he stared into the night.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	2. Chapter 2

Part 3/ Chapter 2  
  
  
In her room, Parker wasn't yet even in a mild panic, though she could feel it approaching. Instead, left to her own devices, the craving for nicotine had finally raised its ugly head. She had spent the hours since Methos' last visit making a thorough search of her bags and the half empty supply basket, praying for a stray cigarette or a piece of nicotine gum; anything to gain relief from the tremors and headache that had attacked her. Abruptly, her stomach growled urgently, reminding her that she hadn't had any solid food in a day and a half.  
  
Glancing at her watch, for lack of any other entertainment, she realized it was nearly two o'clock and well past the time she'd become accustomed to seeing someone. Dropping to the bed exhausted, she tried to rationalize and explain away why noone had yet shown up, while terrifying scenarios began to run through her mind; a dark undercurrent to the reasonable, logical thoughts she was clinging to for dear life.  
  
Frustration, her onrushing nicotine fit and unbidden images of disaster in the world beyond her mouse-trap viciously assaulted her at the same time, leading her to rise, stalk to the door and begin kicking it over and over, with all the strength she had left. After several minutes, the pain from her foot finally bellowed louder than the other crises she was facing and she stopped. Dropping to the floor she laid one hand on the smooth surface, as if she might receive some idea of the situation in the house by osmosis.  
  
When it sank in that she had, most likely, been abandoned, she voluntarily disengaged herself from the world around her and slid into the white noise, desiring only to stay there, drowning in lack of sensation, until she forgot there was a world to return to.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
BLUE COVE:  
  
Deeply engrossed in paperwork that had somehow developed a life of its own when he wasn't looking, Mister Parker only vaguely registered that someone was hammering furiously on his locked office door. Though he tried to ignore it, the visitor was maddeningly persistent, so he rose and unlocked the door, leaving them to let themselves in. To his disgust and dismay, Raines was invading his space once again.  
  
"Where have you been?"  
  
"What do you mean? I've been right here catching up on paperwork for the past three hours. Why? Is there news?"  
  
"Yes, actually. First things first. Four security teams have been searching the Centre for you since late this morning."  
  
"I don't understand. I had brunch in the executive dining hall, then I came directly back here."  
  
Raines stared at the man behind the desk, as if trying to picture him in front of a firing squad, then produced a phone.  
  
"Squad one leader. Report to Mister Parker's office immediately."   
  
Moving into the office, Raines claimed the chair directly across from the sir, scowling at him silently, not bothering to hide his desire to crack Parkers' calm facade, preferably with a crescent wrench.  
  
When the young security officer arrived, his shock at seeing Mister Parker was obvious in his expression.  
  
"Sir. I...."  
  
"Don't bother." Raines grunted, cutting him off. "Shall I assume that when you told me you'd looked everywhere, you excluded this office from the search?"  
  
Glancing from Raines to the other man, the youth began to tremble slightly, remembering his indoctrination lecture on failure; all five-tenths of a second of it, the time it took his instructor to say "Don't".  
  
"No, sir. I mean.... this was the first place I looked. The door was secured properly and there were no lights on. "  
  
"Of course. Parker. No lights?"  
  
"I was on the other side of the room working on my laptop. He wouldn't have seen the lights by the couch from outside the door. Naturally he'd think the office was empty. Release the other teams and return to your usual assignment."  
  
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."  
  
His trembling now flowing from intense relief that he still lived, the young man retreated from the office as fast as courtesy and discipline would allow.  
  
Once he was gone, Raines began to rage against Mister Parker, but didn't get very far.  
  
"How dare you get between me and my people?! Who do you think you are to...."  
  
"Save it, doctor. He's barely shaving for God's sake. He made an honest error. Leave him alone."  
  
"My people don't make errors. Yours, however...."  
  
"Yes, yes. I've heard it all before. You said there was news?"  
  
Despite his obvious fury at Parker's disrespect, the reminder perked Raines' spirits back up.  
  
"You, Sydney and Mister Broots are to go before the Triumvirate tomorrow morning to explain how circumstances have gotten so.... out of hand."  
  
"About damn time. Maybe now we'll get some answers. I assume you've informed Sydney?"  
  
"A team is on their way to his home as we speak. I though it prudent to secure them now instead of finding out in the morning that they had also.... vanished."  
  
"Wise. Very wise. Sydney's been acting strangely lately. I'm not exactly sure I trust him as I once did. Was there anything else? No luck on the searches for Molly and Lyle I suppose."  
  
"No. They will be found, but...."  
  
"I understand. You will excuse me now, I hope? I do have a great deal to do."  
  
For a short while longer, Raines stayed where he was, as if he thought he could intimidate the other man with his mere presence. When it was obvious he was having no effect, he creaked slowly to his feet and left the room, dragging his ever-present steel tank behind.  
  
For the briefest moment, Parker considered going after him, knocking him to the floor and depriving him of his needed oxygen for as long as it took the ghoul to die, but realized the satisfaction wouldn't be nearly worth the Tower's retribution afterwards.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Yes. Yes, I understand, Michael. We'll be right there. I will. I know you're trying your best. It isn't your fault. Yes. Yes, I will tell him. Goodbye. Chris! We need to get into costume again."  
  
"Please. I asked you not to use that name. Wait. Costume? We're going back to the abbey?"  
  
The hint of excitement in Broots' voice made Sydney curious.  
  
"You want to go back?"  
  
"Yeah. Actually.... I had an idea. Between here and Jarod, I was hoping Michael would let me stay with him and the other monks. I'd really love it and I wouldn't be so lonely, you know, missin' Debbie and all."  
  
Chagrined, Sydney turned to Broots, smiling.  
  
"You're right. It's the perfect solution. I should have come up with it myself. I'm sorry. I'm so preoccupied right now...."  
  
"I know. It's okay. I just hope he thinks it's such a great idea."  
  
As he walked to the closet to retrieve the robes and sandals again, Terri exploded into the room just in front of him, forcing him to stumble backwards.  
  
"Abe! The guys that bushwhacked me just pulled up out front."  
  
"You're absolutely sure?"  
  
"Trust me, okay? Oh, this time they will regret ever hearing my name...."  
  
"No, Terri. You can't."  
  
"My fight, Abe. Join in or don't, but no interference."  
  
"Those men will kill us all in a heartbeat, Terri and never think a thing about it. No conscience, no remorse and they will never see a courtroom. Our only chance is to get out of here. "  
  
"No good." she told him, peering cautiously from behind a curtain. "Only half the number I saw is still out front. The rest must have split off to cover the back door. We're not leaving that way."  
  
His options seemingly gone, Sydney could do nothing but stand in the middle of the floor, paralyzed by the thought that Raines threat was about to come true and he would be unable to save any of them from it.  
  
"Abe. Abe, are you alright?"  
  
"No, but you will be. You head down to the basement. They aren't looking for you. You should be safe there."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Broots and I are the only ones they expect to find here. You must hide until you're sure the two of us and the men have all gone...."  
  
"You're nuts. No way I'm gonna crawl into a hole while the MIBs' drag you and Petey away. Forget it."  
  
"Terri, please...."  
  
"No, Abe. I won't."  
  
"Me either." Broots spoke up. "I'm not going with them. She's right. We go down together or we find a way out of this together."  
  
"I won't let you give up and you don't have any right to surrender in his name. I'm a black belt in three different disciplines, Abe and not too far away from it in a fourth." Terri reminded him. "I can show him what to do in a couple seconds. Let me help."  
  
The pounding on the door and the shouts for Sydney and Broots to let the sweepers into the house broke Sydney's emotional numbness, forcing him to realize that Terri's plan might be the only way any of them would see another day of freedom.  
  
"Fine. We might as well shoot for the moon. I see no other way."  
  
Maneuvering Broots to one side of the door and Sydney to the other, Terri rapidly demonstrated to Chris how to use his hands to their best effect without hurting himself. Knowing Sydney had nearly the level of martial arts training she did, Terri merely reminded him of his own injuries before taking a deep breath and opening the door.  
  
"Yes. Can I help you?"  
  
As she expected from their earlier behavior, the three men waiting outside pushed past her into the living room. Not anticipating any resistance, the sweepers were easily surprised and subdued. At Sydney's suggestion, Terri helped Broots drag the unconscious men back out to the car parked at the curb one at a time in deference to Broots' still healing lower back. After securing all the sets of keys they could find, Sydney locked and closed the doors.  
  
"We've only got a few minutes before they get after us. Let's go take out the guys in the back and get the hell out of here." Terri proposed.  
  
"They won't be coming after anyone for a while. All Centre limousines have police locking systems on all the rear doors. They can only be unlocked from the driver's position and only with the key in the ignition. The windows are also shatterproof."  
  
"I get it. That's why we have all the keys."  
  
"Right. I'd say moving straight to getting the hell out of here would be our best course of action. Let the men in the rear deal with this mess."  
  
"Total agreement here. Get in there and get what you guys need, Petey, and move those cute little buns before those others get antsy." Terri prodded Broots with a gentle swat for emphasis that brought a bright flush to his cheeks he was distinctly glad she couldn't see.  
  
Several minutes later, as they waited in Terri's Range Rover in the garage, Terri and Sydney had just begun to become nervous when several muffled explosions from the house sent them both vaulting out of the vehicle and racing back towards the connecting door into the kitchen.   
  
Halfway across the cement floor, Broots stumbled out to meet them, his head whipping back and forth from his friends to the house, his expression a disconcerting mixture of hate and terror.  
  
"Broots! What happened in there?"  
  
"I've got everything. Let's just go, alright?"  
  
"Wait. We heard...."  
  
"Not now. Maybe not ever." he insisted, clambering into the back seat of the vehicle just ahead of Terri. "Just get me out of here and do it now."  
  
Knowing their short time had dwindled to less than nothing, Sydney held his questions, opened the garage door and moved the SUV out of the building and away from the house, not pushing even when Broots lay down on the seat and curled into a fetal position, the monks robes draped over him and clutched tightly to his chest.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"One more time. Slowly and calmly."  
  
"Yes sir, Doctor. Half of our team is locked in the car and all keys have been stolen. When we didn't receive a report from them in the required amount of time, my group went in through the back door and found Mister Broots collecting clothing from a closet. I told him to stop where he was, and when he looked up at the sound of my voice.... all our weapons vaporized, sir. They just exploded. I was the lucky one. I hadn't drawn my pistol yet. Nichols and Peters had theirs in their hands."  
  
"I'll send back up with keys and medical help immediately."  
  
It was a long moment before Raines could turn and look at the man who stood just behind him in the corridor. "It appears the sir was correct about Sydney shielding Mister Broots from us. Now we know why."  
  
As he related the incident at Sydney's home, the eyes of the other widened considerably.   
  
"That poor excuse for a computer nerd? It can't be possible."  
  
"I trust Lewis. He's one of the best sweepers we have. "  
  
"How?"  
  
"I expect I'll learn the answer to that and many other questions when I finally have Broots back here and I can dissect the little rat... whisker by whisker." Raines grunted, moving away down the hall, dialing his cell phone to summon help for his injured men.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Though they had traveled less than half the distance to the abbey, Terri convinced Sydney to put aside his urgent rush to get them all to safety and stop to tend to Broots who, by now, was sobbing heavily. Moving closer to him she sat him up so she and Sydney could talk to him.  
  
"Petey. What is it? You can tell me what happened at the house. I'll understand, I swear I will...."  
  
Broots' only answer was to try to pull away from her touch and escape out the door at his back, but Sydney appeared there, blocking his exit.  
  
"Please, Chris. Talk to us."  
  
Aware, now, that he wasn't going to make it out of the car, Broots stared from one to the other, then stuffed his compact body into the foot-well below his seat facing up at his friends, arms over his face as he sunk deeper into his private anguish.  
  
To make things easier, Sydney climbed into the rear seat with Terri and closed the door.  
  
"Broots. You have to talk to us. You can't go on like this. Whatever happened...."  
  
"No... I have to get out. Just.... leave me here..."  
  
"What? You know we can't do that. I would never abandon you. We vowed to be there for each other through this, remember?"  
  
"We heard the gunshots, Petey. Did...."  
  
"No! God, no...."  
  
"If it wasn't gunshots what was it, Petey?" Terri encouraged, grasping his hand and holding it tightly. "You can tell us anything. It'll be alright, I promise. Just say it."  
  
"Please, Syd. If you won't let me out.... then take me back.... take me back...."  
  
"Back where?" Sydney asked him softly. "Where do you want to go?"  
  
"To the Centre.... it's the only place for me now.... please, take me back...."  
  
Stunned beyond words, Sydney had to make a concerted effort to respond, and even then his voice shook.  
  
"Never. I will never let them kill you while I'm alive to prevent it."  
  
"You don't understand! I don't care anymore! I hurt people. I should die for that! I should die...." he repeated, trying to make an even tighter ball of himself.  
  
Sydney, suddenly confronted with deep nausea and an urge to curl up and weep himself, turned toward the window. Realizing how disturbed he was, Terri gently patted his good shoulder.  
  
"Take a minute, Abe. I'll talk to him for a while."  
  
Sydney nodded slowly, trying to breathe deeply and regain his composure.  
  
"Petey. Can you explain what you mean? Who did you hurt?"  
  
"The... the other sweepers.... back at the house. When I was getting the costumes.... they busted in the back door... ran in from the kitchen.... I was so surprised.... and mad at myself for letting them catch me.... I looked up when one of them yelled at me....and their...."  
  
"Their what, Petey? C'mon. Get it all out. You'll feel so much better if you just say the words."  
  
"Their guns just bl.... blew up.... in their hands.... I.... I knew they had to be hurt.... but I just took off.... I ran away.... and I left them there."   
  
"You had no choice, man. Whoever these guys are there were bound to be more of them coming and none of 'em with any sympathy for you." Terri soothed, stroking his hand and trying to comfort him as best she could, biting back her own questions and disbelief.  
  
"You just don't get it! I've never hurt anyone in my life before these last few days... I don't want to hurt anyone else. If the only way to stop me is for me to die or be locked up at the Centre, then..."  
  
Abruptly, Sydney turned back to face Broots, pulling the hand Terri held into his own grip and taking hold of the other as well. Using his own strength, and Chris' eventually, he maneuvered Broots back up onto the car seat.  
  
"I want you to look directly into my eyes, Broots, so you'll believe I truly mean every word I'm about to say to you. Into my eyes, please."  
  
Only when his friend complied would Sydney continue. "Good. Listen to me, Christian. You didn't want to hurt those men. It wasn't a conscious decision on your part. It was a split second reaction with no intent behind it but a need to save yourself and Terri and me. You aren't responsible. Are we clear?"  
  
Though Broots nodded his understanding, Sydney knew he had a long way to go yet before he really believed.  
  
"Good. We have to move. We're far too vulnerable out here and we must reach the abbey as soon as possible. Lyle's developed a serious infection. He's quite ill."  
  
Sliding out, Sydney returned to the drivers seat, started the car and pulled back out onto the secondary road they had stopped by the side of.  
  
In the back seat, Broots, physically and emotionally running on empty, had leaned his head back against the leather and closed his eyes. Obeying a sudden impulse, Terri reached out and tipped him forward, slipping an arm behind his back then supporting his weight down into the warm circle of her arm, pulling him close to her side and wrapping that arm around his shoulders. Feeling as if she'd discovered a long lost younger brother, she stretched the other hand out and closed the window, not wanting the weary man to be chilled, then placed her head close to his and softly hummed a vaguely remembered song from her childhood until she was sure he was asleep.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
SEACOUVER:  
  
"So. It's all ready then?"  
  
"Yeah. It's great. She's as close to being in the right mind set as she can be and the rooms perfect. The sound and imaging systems are all up and running. Nothing more we can do now. It's up to her and the illusions we provide her. We just have to wait and see if it all works like it's supposed to."  
  
"I'll call Jarod."  
  
"He hasn't come down?"  
  
"No. Both trays of food I brought him just sat there until I came to get them."  
  
"Hmmm. He'll be better when this is all finished."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Turning away, Methos grabbed a thick novel and thumped into one of the chairs on the other side of the room, brooding about Jarod and wondering what nasty, icky death he would have to accept from Macleod when he discovered what Methos was about to do to their carefully thought out plan.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
At Duncan's summons, Jarod finally emerged from his room, moving slowly down the stairs and pointedly ignoring the concerned expressions of the other two. Favoring his injured hand, he hugged them both quickly, but chose to stay silent, moving off down the hall to face Parker.   
  
Stopping to check the monitor just outside the door, he immediately knew something had gone terribly wrong. She was far too still and quiet and the position she held might not even let him open the door without hurting her. Pulling his copy of the remote from a pocket, he entered the unlock code and slowly pushed the door inward, watching the monitor to be sure he didn't bump her. When the gap was as wide as possible, he attempted to squeeze through and just barely made it, shutting it again behind him.  
  
"Parker? Talk to me. Well. It's my fault. I let Methos talk me into waiting. Now look at her...."  
  
Gently pulling Parker to her feet, Jarod slung one of her arms over his shoulders and towed her to the cot where he gently lowered her onto the mattress and dropped down beside her.  
  
"Miss Parker. You're alright. It's okay to come back now. C'mon. Come back to the world. You're safe, I swear. Please...."  
  
His instinct suddenly whispering in the bottom of his mind, Jarod tried a new tack, trusting an intuition that had rarely failed him in the past. "Missy. It's Jarod. We're in the white zone. White means safety, remember? Red zone is danger; fear friends and strangers. White zone is peace; here find release...."  
  
Jarod's words brought the first voluntary movement from her he'd seen since he found her, but it took another fifteen minutes to get her to come around completely. "Missy? Hey. Good to see you. Welcome back."  
  
Realizing her head was snuggled close to Jarod's chest and her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, Parker tore away and moved clumsily off the bed, her revolted expression saying it all.  
  
"What.... do you think you're doing?"  
  
"My apologies. You were catatonic when I got here. I don't know how long you were out of it before that. I've been trying to bring you around for, oh,.... half an hour. Glad to see it finally worked."  
  
"What worked?"  
  
"I used your nickname from when we were young. It seemed to be the only thing you could hear. You were totally unresponsive until...."  
  
"Don't! You say that name and I'll give you a bikini wax you won't soon forget."  
  
Gazing at her thoughtfully, Jarod tried to see in her eyes what was going on in her mind, but she'd completely shut down once again.  
  
"It's just a name. Why should it upset you so much?"  
  
"Because I'm not that child anymore, Jarod. I left the nickname and the hiding places and the daydreams behind when my mother died. I became someone else."  
  
"I know. Never liked her much."  
  
"Why should you? No reason to like someone who's trying to force you to live up to your commitments and responsibilities."  
  
"I bet you don't even remember why you ended up with that nickname."  
  
"No. I don't. I told you..."  
  
"You left it behind. I know. I remembered for you. You came up with the name. You told me you'd decided to drop your first name and be Miss Parker forever, so you'd never forget what you were called by the only person that ever really loved you...."  
  
"Jarod, stop."  
  
"I happen to like the name. In my mind, you'll always be Missy. It isn't what he called you or the name the world uses. Missy represents my images of you, my thoughts."  
  
Back to him, Parker seethed quietly, options for how to respond jumbling together in her head until she couldn't sort them out.  
  
"I hate that name. All it means to me is a time and a place that I can't forget no matter how much I want to. I want to erase the name, erase that part of my life and erase you!"  
  
"Missy..."  
  
"I said stop calling me that! Don't you hear, rat boy? Did all the pampering as a baby lab rat stunt your hearing? Don't speak that name! As a matter of fact, don't speak at all. You give me a headache."  
  
Looking at Parker through slitted eyes, Jarod found, for the first time that the nasty, degrading words were reaching him, making him upset and angry, to a degree they never had before.  
  
"When did you decide you had the right to say things like that to me? What happened to you?"  
  
"Life happened! You going AWOL happened. You're Raines' experiment, a brain-boosted little guinea pig. What should I call you; Wonder Woman?"  
  
"You'll never understand. I had to go when I did. They left me no choice."  
  
"So you left me chronic migraines and a peptic ulcer. Merry Christmas and happy birthday to you too."   
  
"I'm not responsible for that."  
  
"Oh? And who else have I been chasing all over the country for the last four years?"  
  
"You weren't there those last few weeks. Watching the DSA's' isn't being there. You can't know.... In spite of all Sydney tried I was finding I still had a conscience.... and morals. There were sims I wouldn't do because they refused to tell me what they'd be used for. The more sims I refused, the angrier they got. They finally resorted to.... to killing an innocent in front of me. Not just any innocent, either. They picked someone I cared about. I... I think they believed it would intimidate me into cooperating. All it did was infuriate me. I got so depressed. I stayed in bed, wouldn't do anything for them at all...."  
  
"I know. I saw."  
  
"No. You don't know. When will you get that? You'll never know and you'll never understand. I tried to take my life. Bet that's something they never told you. I never fought the doctors harder than the morning after that first attempt....when they were just trying to keep me alive. If I hadn't left I would have kept trying until I succeeded. They couldn't have stopped me forever. Thanks to them I know every way there is to kill someone. The techniques work just as well on yourself. It came down to finding a way out.... or dying. A big part of my life there was about you. My leaving wasn't. Sorry to disillusion you."  
  
"You're right. Sydney never gave me that bit of....information."  
  
"Didn't think so. Your father never told you why did he?"  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"Why you? They could have picked anyone from the Centre to help Sydney search for me."  
  
"They thought since I knew you I'd be able to intuit your movements and get a step ahead."  
  
"Hasn't worked."  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"And it never will."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"You don't really know me anymore and intuition has nothing to do with anything."  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Exactly what I said." Jarod replied, standing and pacing a close circle around her. "Why don't you sit down? You look exhausted and you're starting to limp on your left foot a little."  
  
"I kicked the door. A lot. What did you do to your hand?"  
  
"A minor accident."  
  
Almost to the cot, Parker stopped, turned and stared at him, her expression clearly stating that she'd sit when he told the whole truth. "I put it through a window. Guess I haven't exorcised all the inner demons yet. Sometimes they grab the wheel, you know?"  
  
Standing totally still, Jarod watched Parker lower herself to the bed, studying her as if she were a painting he'd once known every flaw and detail in, but which someone had vitally altered, and not for the better.  
  
"Why do you always look at me like I stole a family heirloom or your brand new bike? Whatever it is you've lost, I don't have it. I never had it so get out of my face, Jarod!"  
  
"Yes you do. That's not what I was thinking about though. You must have questions. Something you've always wanted to ask, but not where anyone could hear you."  
  
"Only a million and one."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"Will you answer?"  
  
"It depends. Ask."  
  
"I've seen some of the overnight footage from the security cameras. You have some of the most intense nightmares.....you seemed to be genuinely panicked. I've always wanted to know what they were about."  
  
"Why?" Jarod challenged, unwilling to risk her scorn and ridicule without knowing her motivations.  
  
"The tapes scared me. You not only talk in your sleep, you yell, scream and beg for mercy."  
  
Feeling Parker hadn't put enough on her side of the scale yet to receive his pain in return, Jarod pushed her a little.  
  
"You never cared before."  
  
"How often have I been stuck in a room with you and nothing to do but gab before? Spill it."  
  
Unimpressed with her attitude, Jarod dismissed the command.  
  
"No."  
  
"No? What do you mean no?"  
  
"You don't really want to hear it. If there were a deck of cards in reach your question would been "Old Maid or five card stud?" My so-called childhood isn't something I'm willing to discuss just because you're bored. Next question."  
  
"So-called childhood? You had everything handed to you on a silver platter, you whiny little brat! Sydney gave you more attention in twenty-four hours than I got from my father in a year!"  
  
"Is it my fault your father's a heartless bastard who only knows how to look out for himself?"  
  
"You son of a..."  
  
"Go on. Finish that cute little phrase if you really think I'm lying."  
  
"He may be a bastard, but he's all I have."  
  
"Wrong! You have memories. You have photographs and mirrors... you can look at those and know what you came from.... why you look the way you do. You're the one with everything."  
  
Stung. Parker hesitated to answer Jarod, images of her mother's death assaulting her, underscored by the "truth" her father had drilled into her head since that horrible day.  
  
"I... didn't take your memories from you. I'm not the one who shot you up with Styx-15, fed you drugged food or made you do simulations. I wasn't even there all that much after my..... after Catherine died."  
  
Catherine. Is that what you call her now; as if she was never your mother, never meant a damn thing to you."  
  
"She betrayed the Centre, the husband who loved her.... and her child."  
  
"Death isn't a betrayal, Missy. If she'd had time to finish her work, neither of us would be here right now."  
  
"I asked you nicely not to call me that. Once more and I will tear you apart with my bare hands...."  
  
"Catherine was never the betrayer and you know it. Your father betrayed all of us, every child in that vile place! He let them kill Catherine, he let you witness it then he took you away from me. I told you I knew a way out.... that I could find a safe place for both of us. You just walked away."  
  
"Stop it, Jarod. Stop it now, or I swear...."  
  
"Everything you ever told me was a lie, wasn't it? Were you daddy's little chess piece, even then? Did he send you in to keep me happy, make me believe I had something to live for beyond the sims and the torture and staring at the ceiling every night? Did he? You never cared. You never gave a damn about me. Every word was scripted, wasn't it? You emotionally seduced me then you drove a stake through my heart, all for a pat on the head and a puppy-biscuit from daddy..."  
  
Though she still couldn't find the emotion behind it, Parker could no longer ignore the voices in her mind screaming for her to kill Jarod as quickly and brutally as she possibly could. When she rose off the bed, however, she immediately fell to her knees. Thinking, at first, that her injured foot had failed her, she quickly realized her mistake. Head spinning, vision doubling and tripling, she tried to get up, but found she barely had enough strength to drag most of her body back onto the mattress. Gazing at Jarod she saw that he was also feeling the effects of whatever had attacked her. The words he was speaking, however, stunned her.  
  
"What.... Not.... not yet.... You were suppo.... supposed to wait... I... oh God, no..."  
  
Stumbling toward the bed, weakened by the effects of a higher concentration of the same gas Macleod had used on the Lear from North Carolina, Jarod fell to his knees, panic and the chemical beginning to burn in the back of his throat as the betrayal of his misplaced trust seared his heart like acid. He slipped into unconsciousness just moments after Parker had, his upper body supported on the cot, fingers wrapped around her hand.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3/Chapter 3  
  
  
"Yes. I do need it. I promised not to monitor their time together, so I have no idea how long he'll be in there. I might as well get some work done. The paper I'm writing on fourteenth century Athens is almost finished and my deadline is noon tomorrow."  
  
"I thought you were in Turkey in the thirteen hundreds."  
  
"Only part of the time. I traveled a lot. Go, will you please? As well as I cook you don't want me starting to mess around in the kitchen."  
  
"Bloody right. Fine. If you screw up my game though, I'll personally run you through."  
  
"You and bleeding Pac Man. You're gonna drive me bonkers with that thing."   
  
As Macleod turned away to go in search of Methos' laptop, he felt a sting in his left shoulder and strong arms supporting his weight over to the sofa as a fast acting sedative dragged him down into darkness, Methos' face and voice the last clear memory he would have for the next six hours.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Mac. I knew you'd really hate what I'm about to do. It's just easier this way. Sleep well, buddy. See you soon."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
BLUE COVE:  
  
"Petey. Hey, sorry to wake you, guy, but we're here."  
  
"Huh? Where?"  
  
"At the abbey. C'mon. Time for you to get going."  
  
Forcing himself awake, Broots lifted his weight away from Terri's supporting arm.  
  
"Man. How long have I been asleep?"  
  
"Only about twenty minutes. Sorry to have to get you up so soon, but..."  
  
"No. It's okay. Thanks for, you know, lettin me...."  
  
"Hey. Glad to be of service." she replied, starting to follow him out of the truck.  
  
"Whoa. I don't think so. You stay here."  
  
"What? You can't be serious."  
  
"Totally. You aren't in costume and you're female. You'd stick out like Janet Reno in the Miss America contest. You stay. If you even think there's anyone suspicious comin' around, crank this puppy up and get out of dodge. Long as you've got your cell we can get a hold of you and let you know we're okay."  
  
"Why do I get the feeling you've done this before?"  
  
"All I can give you is Syd's old standby."  
  
"Don't ask." they chorused together.  
  
"Forget it. I won't leave you and Abe behind."  
  
"Listen, Terri. You don't even want to contemplate how much worse it can get than just a couple burns on your neck. Do what I say, alright? If someone's snooping..."  
  
"Take off. I get it. I don't like it all that much, but I'll do it."  
  
"Good. Sydney and I will be back soon. Duck and cover, okay?"   
  
After a swift embrace, the two separated and Broots followed Sydney into the abbey.  
  
As they entered, Sydney heard voices raised in anger coming from the kitchen. Signaling to Broots that he was to stay there, Sydney moved quietly to the head of the stairs and peered down, immediately recognizing one or two of the sweepers haranguing the line of stoic monks seated on one of the long benches. The table it belonged with had been pushed to the far wall and heaped with equipment, weapons and the men's jackets. Cursing his luck and the Centre in the same breath, Sydney swiftly returned to where Broots waited.  
  
"Stay quiet. The search teams are here. You head up to the isolation level. Michael and I will join you there as soon as we can." Sydney instructed, turning away.   
  
Broots grabbed his arm, rejecting the idea.  
  
"No way. You go. I go."  
  
"I want you out of harms way."  
  
"It's my decision. I'm going."  
  
Suddenly Sydney understood how little credit he'd always given Broots and how strong the man actually was.  
  
"Alright. But back into Brother Christian, right? Not a word."  
  
"I get it, okay? Let's go."  
  
As they descended the steps into the kitchen, both men bowing their heads to keep their faces well hidden, Broots stopped just inside the door as if he'd been told to wait there while Sydney continued toward the end of the bench where the abbot sat, his face a study in ire and frustration. Unfortunately, he was stopped before he could reach Michael.  
  
"I didn't think they were all here. Takes more than twelve people to run a place this big. I guess you don't talk either." the man said, taunting him. "We've got a room full of stubborn people here, gentlemen. If we cut this one's tongue out, do you think it might encourage the others?" he laughed, tightly holding Sydney by one elbow.  
  
Shaking his head, Sydney responded by reaching out and gripping the man who held him, just below where the man's wrist met his hand, and squeezing until the sweeper cried out in pain and released him. After sketching a quick bow he moved on, finding a small space to sit near Michael. Producing a pad and pencil the abbot wrote a swift note then passed them both to Sydney.  
  
^^We're all fine, except for James of course. They haven't hurt us. After that demonstration, I have to wonder if they'll even try. James may not last the night. The fever's running through him like a wildfire. Can't get it down far enough or fast enough to do any real good.^^  
  
Reading the note, Sydney tore it away and wrote one of his own, vaguely coding it in case it should be taken away.  
  
^^We're doing all we can, father. He's in Gods' hands now. Brother Freeman has hurt himself working in the roof garden. He sent Brother Christian and I to see if you could come to him.^^  
  
Nodding, Michael rose and managed a step or two before being halted. Sydney waited for Raines' soldier to decide to move. When it became obvious it wasn't happening, he repeated the maneuver he'd used on the first man, this time adding a quick twist that resulted in the sharp crack of breaking bone. He and the abbot walked out unmolested, collecting Broots on the way, and proceeded to the isolation floor, leaving the two sweepers to tend to their injuries.  
  
Trying to stay aware of who was around them, to be absolutely sure they weren't followed, the three friends made it to the isolation level without being spotted or having their movements reported. When Sydney saw Lyle he instantly knew Michael's assessment had been correct; Lyle might not survive the next several hours and would not emerge undamaged if he did.  
  
"He's in horrendous shape. When did the fever develop?"  
  
"It was discovered this morning. It must have begun overnight."  
  
Hearing Broots mumbling under his breath, Michael and Sydney both left the bedside and focused on him.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I did this. It's because I hit him on the head."  
  
"No. Infections take advantage of opportunity, Chris...."  
  
"Yeah, like the one I gave them."  
  
"Broots, no...."  
  
"Stop it, Syd. If he dies it's on my hands and my conscience, so don't you even dare try and tell me it isn't my fault."  
  
When Sydney started to speak again, Michael stopped him.  
  
"Can I try?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Chris. Do you believe in your heart that James is an evil man?"  
  
"No. Not really. I think he's... damaged. His dad abused him as a kid."  
  
"Did he do evil things?"  
  
"Yeah, but...."  
  
"Why did you feel it necessary to injure him?"  
  
"To save Sydney's life."  
  
"Which was in imminent danger?  
  
"Yes."  
  
Taking Broots by the shoulders, Michael smiled at him.  
  
"Close your eyes. As this act was performed in defense of another's life, God deems you blameless for it and by his grace I absolve you of all guilt and shame. Te Absolvo, Christian." Michael intoned softly, signing the cross on the backs of Chris' hands and then on his forehead. Luckily for Broots, Sydney and Michael's reflexes were both in top shape, as his knees buckled the moment the abbot touched his face and the other two had to move swiftly to catch him before he hit the floor.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm okay."  
  
Transferring Broots entirely into Sydney's hands, Michael ran out and returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea. After being helped to a nearby chair and given a moment to catch his breath, Broots' color returned and he seemed to regain his equilibrium.  
  
"What happened?" Michael asked.  
  
"I don't know. One minute you were talking to me and touching my hands, the next the bells started ringing so loud they drowned you out. I got really weak for a second... That's about it."  
  
Looking to Sydney, Michael saw his own confusion mirrored there.  
  
"We have no bells here, Chris. The closest we could come is a set of chimes in the music room downstairs."  
  
"Real funny. Don't be jokin' with a fragile man, here. I heard bells. Okay, maybe not just bells. There could have been voices underneath all that noise but I wasn't really focused on gettin' everything out of the music... Why do you guys keep lookin' at each other so funny? You're scaring me, Syd."  
  
"We don't mean to. It's just that... we weren't joking. There really is no bell system here at the abbey. The building is too small too support one and being in the center of town the complaints would be flooding in by the hundred pound bag."  
  
"Then... what did I hear?"  
  
When no response was forthcoming from either man, Broots groaned, threw his hands over his eyes and tried to shut out the world that seemed determined to keep his life on spin cycle, despite his constant pleas for the merry-go-round to stop.  
  
Nearly as worried about Broots now as Sydney was, Michael smiled gently at him and patted his shoulder.  
  
"There's a dormitory room just down the hall that's empty, Chris. Why don't you go and lay down? Some rest would do you a world of good right now."  
  
"I wish I could. I don't dare, Syd. What if.... Well, you know what."  
  
"If it happens again, send for me. I'll be there as fast as I can."  
  
"All I want is to go back to your place, but we can't go near it as long as there's a chance the sweepers are still crawlin' all over the place. I'm so sorry, Syd. I lost you your house and all your things..."  
  
"No, you didn't. Everything will be alright. You're safer here than you ever were at my house. Go and sleep. I promise I won't be far."  
  
Wearily, Broots nodded his acceptance of Sydney's reassurances, rose and shuffled off to the dorm escorted by one of the resident monks. The moment he was out of earshot, Michael questioned Sydney.  
  
"If what happens again?"  
  
"The history behind it is too much to explain. He's developed a.... premonitory ability. It shows itself mostly when he sleeps, therefore...."  
  
"Sleep is the last thing he wants. I see. When did this start?"  
  
"Technically, five years ago. Actually, just a few days ago."  
  
"I see what you meant by too much. He seems to very close to the edge."  
  
"No appetite, no sleep and a stratospheric stress level will do that, I'm afraid. I have a favor to ask, Michael. You're not in any way obligated, of course...."  
  
"Go on. You know I'll do whatever I can."  
  
"You always do. That's what makes you such a dear friend to me.... and now, I hope, to Chris too. His life is in danger because of this ability. I'm arranging to get him out of town now. Hopefully someone will be coming to get him, but until they can he's expressed a desire to stay with you and the others here at the abbey."  
  
"In danger how? The Centre?"  
  
"Isn't it always? Everything they touch becomes foul and contemptible, no matter how pure or uncorrupted it was at the start.... I'm trying to protect him as best I can, Michael, but it's only Terri and I right now and I'm terrified that the two of us just won't be enough...."  
  
"You're not alone, Abe. You don't have to do this by yourself anymore."  
  
"Yes. So I've been told. I'm finding it very hard to believe."  
  
"I never could get you to give up bucking for Atlas' job in all the eight years you were here. I guess you're still in the running, hmm?"  
  
"Somewhat. Look. Can he stay? I need to...."  
  
"What you need is a break. Christian is under our protection now, Abe. By the look of your bloodshot eyes and the way your hands are shaking I'd say you need sleep and good food as much as he does. Let the world go for a while, Abe. Let it roll off your shoulders and see to itself and you take care of you for once."  
  
"You don't understand. There are things I have to do. Broots has a young daughter who's in as much danger as any of us if they get their hands on her. More. He'd never forgive me if...."  
  
"We'll bring her here from school. Terri can stay too until the fire dies down out there."  
  
"I can't ask that of you. I don't have the right."  
  
"Of course you do. You were a part of us once, Abe. You'll always be a brother here and you'll always have the same privileges any of the others do, whether you live here or you don't. Now go get some sleep. I'm going down and see if I can hustle those black-suited minions of Satan out of this house of God."  
  
Gazing at Michael critically, Sydney sat back slightly in his chair, indicating he was not quite ready to accede to what he perceived in the abbot's tone.  
  
"I don't appreciate being patronized, Michael. I'm not a fourteen year old boy any longer and, as much as I might respect you, I'm not in awe of you the way I was when I first arrived here."  
  
"I never said you were. You were never a child, Abe. You've been an adult all your life. When you left us you already knew more than some that had been here years and years."  
  
"You said you wouldn't bring it up. You promised me."  
  
"No. What I said is that I would never ask your reasons for going back to the world. I've never broken that promise. Your justifications are between you and the Lord. I still care about you, Abe. It doesn't matter to me whether I see you every other minute or once a year. I reserve the right to worry and pray and wish you'd made a different decision."  
  
"There are times...."  
  
"I expect so. Perhaps Christian isn't the only one who needs absolution."  
  
"I made a choice, Michael. I allowed someone to cloud my eyes, to convince me there was something more important I could be doing, something more important than God and the vow I made to Him. Because of that choice I committed heinous acts of cruelty against both adults.... and innocent children. I've done things I would never dare to ask forgiveness or absolution for. I've been wondering just lately if He'd accept me back if I could find the courage to ask, but... I'm so terrified to hear the answer.... I haven't voiced the question. After the way I rejected Him... I don't really like my chances."  
  
Rising, Sydney left the room before Michael could form a response.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
SEACOUVER:  
  
"Jarod. C'mon, boy. Time to wake up. I know it's hard but me talkin' to myself won't get us anywhere."  
  
With a few gentle pats on the cheek and more verbal encouragement, Jarod reluctantly began to grope his way back to consciousness, though the headache that greeted his return made him wish the gas had killed him. "Atta-boy. Good. Keep comin'. You'll be back all the way in a minute or two."  
  
The memory of his last few minutes with Parker abruptly renewed itself in Jarod's head, bringing barely controlled fury back with it. Seeing the knowledge flare in the younger mans' eyes, Methos backed off several feet.  
  
"Y.... you son of a bitch.... what have you done...." Jarod growled, struggling to rise and attack the man across from him, but stopped cold by the severity of his headache and a flush of lingering dizziness.  
  
"First ground rule; no name calling. Calm down, son. I did this for you."  
  
"Molly....."  
  
"She's in the immersion cell, where she's supposed to be. You're where you need to be, right now."  
  
"I don't understand. What do you mean "ground rules"?"  
  
"This is an intervention. All interventions have a set of rules to manage the behavior of everyone involved."  
  
"Intervention... you're insane."  
  
"Someone had to step in, Jarod. You and I are going to have a long talk about your behavior, your emotional state and whatever else we can get to in the five or so hours before Mac comes out from under the sedative I gave him. Oh, and, before you bother looking, I've got your jack-knife and your copy of the door remote. You'll get them back when we've straightened a few things out."  
  
"My behavior...."  
  
"Yes. You've got Macleod and I worried near to death. You're losing your grip, Jarod, just the slightest bit. I won't see you fall when I could have reached out and pulled you back. I've let it happen before and..... well, let's just say I don't deal well with failing my friends."  
  
"I don't confide in people who betray me."  
  
"How many times a month do you call him?"  
  
"That's different and you know it. Sydney is the closest thing to a father that I had. He's the only one who understands..."  
  
"Understands what? Who you are or who he wants you to be? Can you be more than his expectations, Jarod? Can you even see beyond them?"  
  
"I already have. Look. My head is pounding. If you don't plan on letting me out of here then leave me alone and let me sleep this off."  
  
"I can't. We are going to talk, Jarod, headache or no. Your silence is killing you just as sure as her rage is killing her. I can't let you cop out. She had no place to run in here and neither do you. Let's start with what happened upstairs in your room."  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
"Mac already told you the what. I want to know why."  
  
"I'm fine. What do you expect to get out of persecuting me?"  
  
"Yeah. You're peachy keen. That's what trying to throw the headphones through the wall was about, right? Emotionally healthy people put their fists through panes of glass and then block out the event. Happens all the time."  
  
"I said I'll pay for the damage...."  
  
"It's not about the wall or the headphones or the window, Jarod. This is about the damage done to you all those years ago and making a start on fixing that."  
  
Jarod closed his eyes and gave the same response he'd given before to subtler attempts to put across the same message.  
  
"You know I can't stop. Too many people need me."  
  
"There are only two reasons any of us try to fix a fellow human being, Jarod. Either we're really okay within ourselves and we genuinely want to help others, or there's something inside us we think is beyond repair, so we go outside whatever situation we can't face and find someone to make better. While we're cleaning up their mess, we can avoid having to look at our own."  
  
"Stop it.... please...."  
  
"No can do. I won't let you keep on this path. I've been watching you for a few months now, hoping you'd pull out of this slow nosedive and I wouldn't have to intervene, but when you crunched your hand.... I knew it was time to do something."  
  
When Jarod finally looked at him again, the terror and hopelessness he saw there nearly ripped Methos' heart in two.  
  
"What do you think you can do that I haven't tried? I've read every book there is on individual recovery of repressed memory, self-hypnosis, self-therapy...."  
  
"Aren't you seeing a pattern there?"  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Self, individual. As in all alone."  
  
Striding to sit beside Jarod on the bed, Methos warmed his friend's cold right hand in between his own. "You've survived four years in the world alone, trying all by yourself to fix everything they broke. You don't have to do it anymore. I'm here now and you don't even have to ask for my help. I'm giving it willingly."  
  
"If I could ask, don't you think... I don't have the right to drag anyone into my personal tar pit, Methos. What I do remember is horrific enough. How much worse must the rest of it be if my mind's trying to protect me from it by throwing up these.... brick walls I keep running into?"  
  
"If you don't turn and face the demons that are chasing you down they will catch you and they will swallow you whole, alive and kicking. You've become one of my best mates. I won't lose you that way."  
  
Turning from Methos, Jarod drew his knees to his chest, wrapping himself into a tight ball.  
  
"I can't. There are too many and they're too strong."  
  
"Haven't you been listening, son? Nothing's too strong for the two of us. I'm gonna stay right by your side, shoulder to shoulder. I would never abandon you in the darkness, Jarod. We go in together and we come out the other side the same way."  
  
"The darkness is what I've been fighting all these years.... If I go in I'll never find a way out again. It's too hard..."  
  
"Bull! Getting out of the Centre was hard. Going back and getting Kyle out before Raines could fry his gray matter was a bloody miracle. You've done hard before, mate, and you did it all on your own mettle. You've got me now and I swear I won't leave you. If you ever trusted anyone, Jarod, trust me now."  
  
Slowly, though it seemed to take forever, Jarod moved back around to face Methos, extending his injured hand only, as if implying that he knew how deeply his friend could hurt him and that he was placing that vulnerability before Methos, trusting him not to do any more harm than had already been done.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Slowly waking in the isolation cell Duncan and Methos had thrown together based on Jarod's fragmented memories of SL27, Parker raised her head slightly off the floor and was assaulted by the same pain Jarod had woken up to only a short time earlier. Gingerly lowering her head back down, she straightened her legs and looked around as best she could without causing the headache to spike.  
  
The only light came from a small square several feet high in what she assumed must be the door, and was not sufficient for her to see much of her surroundings. Water dripped faintly in the background and muffled voices occasionally came and went, moving past the door and away. The floor beneath her felt like cement, but without being able to see it she couldn't be sure.  
  
When her overwhelmed mind finally connected the sounds she was hearing to the images Macleod had dredged from the depths of her subconscious, she panicked utterly, pulling herself up to her knees and crawling frantically until she reached a wall. Her own harsh breathing only adding to her terror, she leaned into the wall trying to force the headache to back off and her racing heart to slow. To her dismay, the stress of trying to calm herself only worsened the pain until she retreated into the static once again. In a tiny corner of her mind the true Melissa Parker escaped a dismal and bitter world in sleep, leaving Missy to wake moments later, abruptly dropped back into a nightmare she'd thought long over and well buried.  
  
As she had the first time circumstance and betrayal had left her alone in a small, dark, quiet room, she began to scream.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
BLUE COVE:  
  
Now that he had made the decision to go looking for Lyle and Molly on his own, Mister Parker was feeling more at peace than he had in many months. Staring at the drawer that contained his future and the future of his children, he leaned back in his desk chair and grinned, thoroughly pleased with himself. He had ensured that no matter what the leadership of the Centre might try, the three of them would always be safe.  
  
Rising, he strolled to the couch and the replacement table that had been delivered only that morning and lifted the picture of Catherine, gazing at it with affection and a genuine sense of finally having done something she would have been proud of him for.  
  
When the voice began whispering, he ignored it at first, thinking that perhaps someone was passing the office or that he had accidentally left the television on in the entertainment center and, distracted, closed the doors. When the sound grew louder, he raised his eyes from the framed photo, finally recognizing his name being called, squinting in irritation that a visitor or some important business would drop on his doorstep just then.  
  
The vision before him stole his breath and sent him stumbling backwards, unable to credit what he was seeing with the reality it seemed to possess. Snagging his pant-leg on a corner of the new table, he crashed to the floor on his left hip, struggling for breath and fighting a sudden sharp pain that told him some damage had been done in the fall, but unable, despite everything, to tear his eyes away.  
  
"Catherine.... Dear God... Catherine..."  
  
It's time to rest now, Richard. You've worked so hard these last few years.... Time to rest, my love....  
  
"Do you know, Catherine? Did you see? They're safe now.... both our children are safe...."  
  
I know, Richard. I watch over them... and you.... time to rest, darling Richard... Rest....  
  
As the vision of his late wife stretched out a hand to brush his cheek, Richard Parker reached to grasp her fingers and slipped into a darkness of his own making, his last coherent thought, that he had finally made Catherine happy, spiraling down with him into the abyss.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Abe. Abe, wake up. There's trouble with a capital T."  
  
"Michael? What is it?"  
  
"Not here. I don't want to give Chris any more to worry about. What he doesn't know..." Michael whispered, waiting for Sydney to rise, then preceding him into the hall.  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"You could say that. In a "God please don't desert me now" kind of way. Someone else just showed up. He seems to be in charge of the others. Actually they all seem terrified of him."  
  
"Does he carry oxygen with him?"  
  
"Yes. You know him then."  
  
"I'm afraid so. It seems Satan has decided his minions need personal direction."  
  
"He definitely gave off that vibration. The second he looked at me I wanted to start a prayer chant on the spot."  
  
"I won't argue the point. We need to pull Terri inside and out of his rifle sights."  
  
"Of course. Any thoughts about getting those demons and the head devil out of here?"  
  
"No. I did, but.... Raines won't leave until he's personally satisfied himself that Chris and I aren't here. We'll have to wait him out."  
  
"I suppose so. I'll send someone who's already up here to go out and get her and hide the truck in the underground garage."  
  
"Under.... when did you build that?"  
  
"Later. Time for stories when we're all safe. Go back to sleep."  
  
"No. I can't do that. Not now."  
  
"Yes, you can. Nothing you can do but hide. Just in case."  
  
"Knowing he's here.... I can't Michael. Just... go get Terri, alright?"  
  
"At least go sit and rest, you stubborn mule." Michael teased gently, smiling, but putting just enough concern in his voice that Sydney would know he meant it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I don't know, sir. Yes. I am the one who.... No, sir. Someone's been watching his office since Doctor Raines had to leave and Mister Parker.... Of course, sir. I.... Yes. I'll await your arrival."  
  
In the ten minutes it took his superior to join him at the door to the office, the young security officer took himself to hell and back several times, contemplating all the things he knew could happen to him besides the loss of his job.  
  
"The door is locked?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Then I'd say plan B is in order, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Break it in."  
  
"Yes. Of course, sir. Immediately."  
  
When the door finally yielded, the head of the Centre was discovered lying on the floor next to his coffee table, still clutching the picture of his late wife, his eyes closed and a vague smile on his lips as if he found the memories floating past his mind's eye far more pleasant than anything the world could offer...  
  
"I can't wake him. Get Dr. Raines back here ASAP. Tell him Mister Parker's gravely ill."  
  
"Yes, sir. If he wants details?"  
  
"Tell him the truth. You don't have any."  
  
"Yes, sir." the officer responded crisply, producing a cell phone and dialing rapidly.  
  
"Great. I should have seen this coming.... should have caught it before it got this far. I'll have to clean up his mess now, I suppose. I just hope it doesn't smell too bad." he mumbled to himself as he loosened the other man's tie and collar then moved to the desk to summon medical assistance. "Officer. You go wait downstairs for Dr. Raines. Contact me the moment he arrives."  
  
"Yes, sir. You'll be in renewal wing?"  
  
"Most likely, but I'll fill you in when you call."  
  
"Right, sir."  
  
The security officer turned smartly and headed for the elevators. His superior dropped wearily into Parker's former chair to wait for the medics to show up.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	4. Chapter 4

Part 3/Chapter 4  
  
  
  
Tucked into a tight ball, Terri slouched below window level in the cab of her truck and forced herself awake for what seemed like the hundredth time. For the past thirty minutes she'd been see-sawing between the urge to let the growing warmth of the small space lull her to sleep and her concern for Sydney and Broots, which kept her from being able to even doze. Rubbing her eyes, she pushed out of her slumped position and was just beginning to stretch when a tap on the window behind her sent her head-first into the ceiling.  
  
Broots' warnings about leaving immediately if anyone appeared interested in the truck sent her scrambling for the drivers seat and the keys that hung in the ignition switch. As she was about to turn the engine over, a lucky glance out the passenger's side window revealed that it was one of the abbey's residents that had scared her so badly. After a moment or two of watching him, she realized he was telling not to start the engine. Recovering her composure, she climbed out and met him at the front of the vehicle.  
  
"What is it? Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, miss, but the men searching for your friends are in the abbey now and are being very persistent. They, and the abbot, fear for your safety as well. Abbot Michael asked that you come inside. Please, miss. We must hurry before we are discovered."  
  
Shaking off her confusion, Terri quietly closed the driver's door of the truck and followed the monk through a concealed door in the back of the abbey and up a long narrow flight of stairs. Halfway up, her guide stopped and opened a small false panel in the wall, revealing a glowing keypad. He entered a series of numbers which opened a door leading left off the step on which they stood. Terri hesitated to follow him through, wishing her world would slow down and allow her comprehension to catch up.  
  
"Please come, miss. Do you not wish to see your friends?"  
  
This encouragement finally got Terri to join the young monk. He swiftly pushed the door closed and the stairway wall became a wall again, unrecognizable as anything else.  
  
As Terri and her escort entered the isolation area where James lay, still mired in his fever-coma, Sydney strode to greet her and lead her away from the disturbing sight.  
  
"Who is that, Abe?"  
  
"Noone you need to worry about. Come sit down with me."  
  
"But..."  
  
"He's dying, Terri. If he does survive, there won't be much left that hasn't been consumed. He's nothing any of us need be concerned about any more." Sydney repeated, the clear note of satisfaction in his words surprising both Terri and Michael.  
  
"I thought you were listening when I absolved Chris. James isn't evil. He's done evil things, but God has forgiven him. You do the same before there are no more chances."  
  
Eyes lowered, Sydney drew and expelled several slow breaths, trying to find it within himself to follow Michael's advice, knowing the simple act would lighten the burden that so weighed down his heart, even if only a little or for a little while.  
  
"I can't. Not yet. He's the reason Chris is here now, the reason that gentle sweet man has been forced to flee for his life. I've tried never to hate anyone, Michael, and I thought I'd succeeded.... before I met "James". I'm losing one of the best friends I have ever had because of.... that thing in the bed over there. I don't have the strength to forgive that easily. I'm not you, Michael. There are times I wish to God I was..... but I'm not."  
  
Taking Terri's hand, Sydney led her toward the door, intending to show her where Broots slept and try to convince her to rest as well, but their exit was prevented by one of the brothers rushing in excitedly with a message for Michael.  
  
"Seriously? Well, well. We'll take minor miracles where we find them and be grateful. One problem solved, Abe. The one in charge, Raines I think you called him, just got a telephone call and rushed out of here dragging that whole crew of fallen angels behind him."  
  
As Michael turned back to thank and dismiss the messenger, a terrified scream from down the hall sent everyone in the room six inches into the air. Michael, Sydney and the brother ran for the dormitory, Terri hot on their heels.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I should have known something was wrong. He was acting so strangely."  
  
"No, Raines. What happened to Mister Parker was mostly his own fault. The Frankenstein's castle atmosphere of this place hasn't helped, I'm sure. I've seen this coming for a year or more. I could have intervened. I wanted to give him every chance to realize how ill he was."  
  
"Jarod also bears some responsibility in his breakdown, sir."  
  
His expression darkening, the man standing beside Dr. Raines leaned slightly forward, bracing his hands on the sill of the observation window to the room where Richard Parker lay, silent and unmoving.  
  
"Indeed he does, doctor, and I'm going to see that he lives up to that.... and all his other obligations to the Centre. Yes. I do believe it's time for me to take an interest in our runaway genius. A very personal interest."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
SEACOUVER:  
  
"Jarod. This is me you're not talking to. Open up, just a little."  
  
"I said I'd try. I didn't guarantee anything.'  
  
"You're not trying. If you were making any effort at all I'd at least give you credit for that, but all I'm getting is evasions and non-answers."  
  
"I don't open up, Methos. You know that. I've been.... betrayed too many times."  
  
"You probably do see this that way. I saw two choices in front of me; force you into a few hours of honest, open talk, or keep watching and wait for you to implode. I picked number one as the lesser of the two evils. Try, Jarod. Stop being royally pissed off at me for a minute and just try."  
  
"I'm not angry at you anymore."  
  
"Oh. Moving right on to boldfaced lying now, are we? Damn, no wonder the two of you get on so heinously. You're so much alike it's scary."  
  
"Only in your vivid imagination."  
  
"Really? Let's see; you take all your pain and frustration and anger, bottle it and stuff it away somewhere, then you add and add to the bottle, ignoring how full it already is, 'till it explodes on the wrong person at the wrong time and you end up nearly killing somebody you only meant to pull a confession from. She gives all her pain and frustration and anger to an alter-ego that stays locked away in the back of her head, until she gets so mad, or it hurts so much, that the alter takes control so she can dump the sludge. Sound all that different to you?"  
  
The expression on Jarod's face when he finally looked up told the ancient Immortal his campaign to crack the younger mans' armor was finally working.  
  
"I used to think so... but when I hear it phrased like that.... I don't know anymore...."  
  
"You both went through things as kids no human being should ever have to try and survive. Your major obstacle now is realizing that you're still stuck in that abuse. You offered Molly her own way out, now take the one I'm offering you. Maybe by the time this is all over, you'll both be free."  
  
"You'll never understand. I can't focus on myself when there are people who need what I can do.... what I can be for them....."  
  
"That again. You're refusing to give up your pain because it's the motivation for the stings. No justified rage or unresolved crud from the past means no more being super-hero Jarod. Save the downtrodden and vanish into the night, leaving behind only the memory of your terribly selfless and courageous deeds."  
  
"You're being cruel. You don't get it. You'll never get it."  
  
"Cruel? Yeah, I suppose the truth can be cruel, sometimes. Doesn't mean it shouldn't be heard."  
  
"Stop it. No more. Please.... just stop."  
  
"One last question. If you can answer it honestly, I'll stop. Who are you more afraid of, just lately; Parker and the Centre..... or yourself?"  
  
Watching Jarod carefully, Methos waited several minutes, but received no response.   
  
"I know you understand, at least somewhat, how badly your control is slipping. You can't tell me you aren't totally, excruciatingly aware how close you are to flipping out and becoming everything you've been fighting against for four years. You can't use your pain that way anymore, Jarod. Every person you take down because of your rage and your sorrow gives those emotions more power. They're almost stronger than you are, now. Do you really want to let them become all you are, the way Parker has? That isn't you, mate. The world isn't that dark and cold a place for you. At least, I never thought it was."  
  
"It isn't..... It wasn't...."  
  
Head nearly between his knees, hands clamped over his eyes, Jarod began to feel moisture drop into his palms and fought mightily to control or suppress his tears.  
  
Watching Jarod's shoulders heave as his efforts failed, Methos moved swiftly to sit beside his friend, wrapping a supportive arm around his back as he spoke soft words of encouragement.  
  
"Let loose of this Jarod. For God's sake, let loose of this or it'll kill you. Quit fighting it. If it gets rid of this poison that's making you hurt yourself, then cry. Let it go just like you did the other night. Let it go...."  
  
"I can't. Not again.... It was because you were.... you made me feel safe.... you wouldn't understand...."  
  
"What don't I understand? Tell me."  
  
"No... Just let me go. You can't help me. Noone can."  
  
"I can if you'll give me a chance. Talk to me. Tell me this secret, Jarod. Let it out. Let it go."  
  
As Jarod tried to pull away, somewhere among the words he mumbled, one reached Methos loud and clear.  
  
"Leave? I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here with you."  
  
"You will, just like he did...."  
  
"He who, Jarod? Get this one out, son, and the rest will flow like water. Tell me who left you. Who did this to you?"  
  
When Jarod's fight to be free of Methos' comforting words and touch suddenly increased in vehemence, Methos retreated, but refused to let the question go.   
  
"Tell me. Who was so vile as to make you think your emotions were cause to be abandoned?  
  
"I can't! Don't you understand that? I'll lose him...."  
  
Suddenly, his intuition provided Methos the name he'd been trying to pull from Jarod, but he continued pushing, feeling that, to begin healing, the other had to say it himself.  
  
"Tell me about it. Tell me why he left you alone."  
  
"I already told Duncan."  
  
"Now tell me."  
  
"I was... very little. I was desperate for someone, anyone, to hold me, or.... pick me up and carry me. The more I tried.... the harder he pushed me away. Finally.... he just left. I didn't see him for a few days. By the time he came back.... I understood the rules."  
  
Sweeping disordered hair away from Jarod's face, Methos gazed at him with deep concern.  
  
"You must have been terrified."  
  
"No. Not really."  
  
"How did his rejection make you feel, then?"  
  
"It wasn't a rejection. He was doing what he had to do...."  
  
"Of course it was a rejection. The fact that he was under orders makes his actions no less reprehensible. Tell me how it made you feel."  
  
"Don't say that. They were always using Raines as a sword of Damocles.... hanging it over his head. He had to obey...."  
  
"How well have you really watched those DSA's? He loved what he was doing. You can see it in every frame, every expression on his face."  
  
"No! You're wrong! Sydney loved me.... he still loves me....."  
  
Taking Jarod's face in both hands, just as he had the night in the chair, Methos forced the young man to look directly into his eyes.  
  
"Sydney allowed you to be injected with a drug that altered your brain forever. Sydney put science and research above any questions he had about your origins. Sydney took a vulnerable child and tried to strip his emotions and morals so he'd have the perfect little robot to do his filthy experiments. Sydney ignored the truth, even when it came from the brother that he loved. Sydney knew Jacob and Catherine's concerns about the project were legitimate and he chose to ignore them.  
  
Sydney allowed you to be hurt, and infected and tortured, all in the name of his precious project. That's not love, Jarod. That's enlightened self-interest. Stop defending his actions, when you know there is no defense for them. No more punishing yourself for things you did under his control. No more hurting others because you think you don't have the right to be mad at him. No more. Cry. I won't leave you. I won't leave you."  
  
Weeping freely now, Jarod collapsed into the circle of Methos' arms. Methos welcomed him, shedding streams of his own tears as Jarod sobbed out the worst of what had been burning him alive from the inside out for most of his adult life. For the most part, Methos stayed quiet, letting the young man purge himself, responding only when it seemed warranted.  
  
Nearly an hour later, with Jarod finally calm and sleeping the sleep of the emotionally exhausted on the cot next to him, Methos responded to his handy-talkie, which was beeping softly in his pocket. Knowing it had to be Macleod, he hesitated before silencing and retrieving the device, finally deciding to answer the summons in person, despite what he was certain Mac would do to him once freed. Rising gingerly from the cot, so as not to disturb Jarod, Methos exited the room, leaving the door open.  
  
"Mac. Keep your voice down. I left the door open back there and the boy's asleep. I want it to stay that way."  
  
Raising his head slightly and fixing his best friend with a look that could have liquefied glass, Macleod growled a command and maintained the stare until it was carried out.  
  
"Untie. The ropes. Now. "  
  
"When you promise to keep that legendary Scottish temper of yours in check. This was my doing. No sense disturbing Jarod, now is there?"  
  
"What have you done?"  
  
"He's fine. Matter of fact he's a lot better now than he was three hours ago. We talked. He got rid of a lot of the nastier stuff he's been hoarding for a long time. I don't think we have to worry so much about him anymore. You should have been out for another two hours yourself. What happened?"  
  
"She did." Macleod told him, nodding toward the monitor. "When she started screaming I came to. Something's gone wrong."  
  
"What makes you say that? She seems calm enough."  
  
"Now. It was the screams. Before my eyes cleared enough to see her.... I would have sworn it was a child being slaughtered."  
  
"Nothing we can do now. The audio from the DSA should be well underway. This is no time to stop. It's up to her now." Methos reasoned, feeling Mac had calmed enough to risk untying him.  
  
Sitting up slowly, Macleod stared down Methos again while shaking out the numbness in his fingers and arms.  
  
"When this is through, and she's on her way home...."  
  
"I know. I wasn't about to try to weasel out. I'll take my punishment like a man. I am sorry. I just felt Jarod couldn't wait any longer and I knew you wouldn't approve...."  
  
"I understand. Doesn't get you off the hook for what you did to me.... but I promise to take mitigating circumstances into account. If he turns out alright, that is."  
  
"He's fine, I told you. Much improved anyway."  
  
"And you?" Macleod asked, finally noticing the red tinge to Methos' eyes and the subtle way he tried to keep his face turned just enough so Duncan couldn't quite get a good look.  
  
"I'm okay too. Some of the stuff he told me.... I hadn't heard before. It got to me a little. Listen. I'm going up to my room for a while. Give a yell on the talkie when the kid wakes up or it's time to finish this thing off."  
  
"You understand I'm taking that over."  
  
"Yeah. After.... you deserve it. You've gone over the script and all?"  
  
"Before you shot me up, luckily."  
  
"Good. I'll see you soon, then." Methos said quietly as he headed for the staircase. When Macleod called him by the name they only used between the two of them, the one noone else even knew about, he halted, turned and walked back to his friend for a brief embrace.  
  
"Mon frère. Vous êtes vraiment bien?" (My brother. Are you really alright?)  
  
"Oui. Je suis. (Yes. I am.) I will be, anyway. I need some space, okay?"   
  
"Yeah. Keep your talkie on. It might not be too long before either situation comes to a head."  
  
"Will do." Methos assured him and began to climb the stairs again, a choice few of the horrors that Jarod had poured out to him still swirling menacingly in his head.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
BLUE COVE:  
  
"Petey? It's alright. You're alright, now. Take it easy, okay?"  
  
"Terri? Oh, man. Did they come after you? How come you're in here? What happened..."  
  
"Petey. Chill for a minute, will ya? With all those goons running around downstairs, Abe and Abbot Michael thought I'd be safer in the abbey than outside in the truck. I'm okay."  
  
"Thank God. I'm really sorry for scarin' everybody like that. I just can't help it...."  
  
Perching on the edge of the bed, Terri drew Chris close to her, trying to calm him while Sydney laid two fingers along his wrist to gauge his pulse.  
  
"We understand. Noone's angry at you. We know it's not your fault. Try and relax."  
  
"Easy for you to say. You don't have Fellini meets Freddy Kreuger running in your head every time you go to sleep."  
  
"Listen to me, Broots. Your pulse is much too fast. It should have slowed by now. You must try to settle down. The tremendous stress you've been under will adversely affect how fast your immune system is able to respond to threats such as injury or infection and you can't afford to become ill at this point."  
  
"You're sayin' my back will heal slower.... stuff like that?"  
  
"Precisely."  
  
"Then help me, Syd. You said you could at least show me how to.... I don't know, understand what I'm seeing... so it won't scare me so much. You can, right?"  
  
Dropping onto the opposite side of the bed from Terri, Sydney sighed softly, then responded.  
  
"So much has happened since then, Chris. We don't have the time anymore for me to even make a start on what you need to know, and what happened at the house..... that adds a whole new dimension to the problem."  
  
"That wasn't my fault! You said so in the truck! I wasn't even thinkin' about doin' anything, never mind...."  
  
"I know, Petey. I know. It wasn't your fault. Hush, now. Calm down." Terri murmured soothingly.  
  
"I didn't mean.... I'm sorry, Chris. Jarod e-mailed back to me. He's agreed to try and help you. He's looking forward to seeing you again. He claims to know two friends who can give you all the help you need. You must hold on until you get to Jarod. Everything will be alright then....."  
  
Pushing aside his weariness, Sydney produced his best version of a bright smile and tried to lighten the oppressive atmosphere. "There is good news. The sweeper teams have gone. We can all go down and eat in the kitchen. Full stomachs will cheer us all up."  
  
"Boy, do I agree with that!" Terri enthused. "You up for something to munch on, Petey?"  
  
"Yeah. Syd is right. I have to stay healthy. Food is in the plan even if I'm not in the mood, I guess. Yeah. I'm up for it."  
  
"Alright. Lead the way, Abbot."  
  
"Christian knows the way. Abe and I will meet you down there in a few minutes. You go ahead. We won't be too far behind."  
  
As the others left, Sydney settled for only giving the abbot a confused glance, waiting until they were alone before asking what was up.  
  
"What's this all about, Michael?"  
  
"You're holding out on Chris and me."  
  
"I don't understand. What do you mean?"  
  
"You've got his escape plan all set up. What about yours? You can't exactly stick around either."  
  
Turning away a little, Sydney considered the question for several minutes before finally being able to accept that he had only one real option.  
  
"You're wrong, Michael. That's all I can do. Someone has to make sure the Centre's focus remains here in Blue Cove, on me...... or Broots might not make it out safely. That's what matters. Besides, this all started with me, really. I was the one who put.... James in that bed. I was the one who gave Chris the painkiller that activated the chemical cocktail that's causing all his problems..."  
  
Striding to Sydney's side, Michael tried his best to talk him out of what he was thinking of, but was unable to sway him even the tiniest bit.  
  
"You're going to have to tell Chris."  
  
"No. It's better if he never knows. In the event that the worst case scenario comes to pass...."  
  
"He has a right to know, Abe. If they do.... do that, it would be the ultimate cruelty to allow him to live his life thinking you're alright and living yours."  
  
After another few minutes of contemplation, Sydney acceded to Michael's logic.  
  
"I suppose.... After he eats. I won't give him one more cause to claim his appetite's been ruined."  
  
"Fine. As long as you tell him."  
  
"I will. Terri too. We've been close over the past few years.... she deserves to know as well. Just in case."  
  
"Just in case you're hungry... what say we go down and eat? They'll be wondering where we are."  
  
Michael leading slightly, the two friends made their way down to the kitchen to join Terri and Broots.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I can't explain it any better, Chris and I don't expect you to understand."  
  
"Understand?! What am I supposed to understand? We've been running for our lives for days and now you tell me you're gonna willingly walk back into that.... that snake pit... when you know damn well they'll be waitin' on you? I'll never understand that, Syd. Never."  
  
"If I go back on my own, instead of being dragged back, my pleas of ignorance will carry far more weight with the Tower. Besides, I can only change things from the inside. We agree on that point, at least, don't we?"  
  
His expression contorting with the effort of repressing the anger he didn't feel right showing Sydney, Broots simply stared down his friend and former boss and spoke the truth that was hurting him so badly.  
  
"They'll kill you. You know that."  
  
"Perhaps, but this is my decision. If you don't make it out of Blue Cove soon, you won't make it at all. I can't allow that to happen."  
  
"And if my decision is to stay and defend you?"  
  
"Unacceptable. My death would be a sacrifice. Yours would be a pointless tragedy. Don't you see that you're the one with everything to lose? If I die.... it will at least be for a purpose, and knowing even one person will mourn me..... I won't be afraid."  
  
"Syd....."  
  
"Broots..... Christian. Things are the way they are supposed to be. I don't regret any of what I've done in the past few days, but I must still face the consequences and try to come out the other side in one piece. That's my job for the next little while. Yours is to forget the Centre ever existed. Go live your life, raise your beautiful daughter and try to serve God the best way you can. I have to go talk to Michael for a short while. I'll see you again before I leave, I promise. Will you be alright?"  
  
"No.... but give me a year or two.... and maybe." Chris tossed back, a wan smile on lips. "You'll be in my prayers every day, Sydney. I swear I won't miss one." he vowed, rising and pulling Sydney into a strong embrace.  
  
"That's good to know, seeing as I have noone else to intercede for me." Sydney chuckled as they parted.  
  
"Of course you do, Syd. Jacob, Catherine, your parents. They're all your guardian angels. You've had more souls pullin' for you all along than you ever knew."  
  
"Hmmm. I hope you're right. I'll need some extra protection in the next few days. Where will you be when I'm finished with Michael?"  
  
"In the library probably. They've got so many books in there.... I wanna try and read at least half of them before I go."  
  
"Excellent choice. I'll see you there in... two hours let's say?"  
  
"Two hours."  
  
The friends parted then, Sydney moving back into the kitchen and up the stairs, Broots reassurances stripping away some of the intense fear he harbored about meeting his death at the Centre.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	5. Chapter 5

Part 3/Chapter 5  
  
  
"Angel? Angel, where are you, baby? Are you alright? Come out where daddy can see you, angel."  
  
Cautiously entering the immersion cell, Jarod tuned one ear in to his surroundings to be sure the audio from the DSA had cut out as it was supposed to, then refocused all of his attention on Parker and the lines Methos and Duncan had composed for the use of whoever ended up in the cell at the end, trying to reassure Parker back to life without destroying the illusion they'd created, at least not immediately.  
  
"It's alright, Molly. Daddy's here, now. It's time to go home." he told her softly, moving with extreme slowness to allow his eyes to adjust and to avoid terrifying her. His deep concern for her ultimate welfare made the pace he had to maintain agonizing for him. When his eyes finally allowed him to perceive her shape huddled in a far corner, he resumed the scripted lines. "Angel? Come to daddy, angel. No more of this.... horrid place. I fixed everything. Come here, sweetheart. Come to daddy. It's alright."  
  
Hating the pain he'd put her through, despite knowing there was really no other way she would ever have seen reason, Jarod stuck with the plan and made the same move the three men had concluded her father probably made all those years ago. Turning, he started out of the cell, then rushed back to her and swept her into his arms. When she didn't react immediately, he almost broke with the script, but caught himself in time and forced himself to be patient, whispering into her ear and rocking her slowly.  
  
  
"Angel. C'mon, angel. Talk to your daddy. Please. Just talk to me. Please, sweetheart. Please, angel. You're alright, daddy's angel. That's what my little Molly is. Daddy's sweet, precious angel...."  
  
Jarod continued in this vein for another thirty minutes, finding he didn't have to fake any of the emotion behind his words, until she began to stir in his arms, at which point he pulled her to him a little tighter, knowing what was coming. "That's my girl. Daddy's here, angel. Look at me, baby. Look at daddy, baby...."  
  
The battle, when it came, came suddenly and Jarod nearly lost it before he started, forgetting that he held a powerful, fully grown woman and not merely a frightened child.  
  
Enduring solid blows to his arms and face and the continual echoes of 'I hate you, daddy' and 'you let her die, you let her die', Jarod began to speak the two phrases Methos hoped would now restore whatever memory the Centre, and her father, had stolen from her. He repeated them over and over, until her struggles weakened and he began to believe she was hearing his words.  
  
"The walls have fallen, it's time to remember. The walls have fallen; it's time to remember. The walls have fallen, it's time to remember...."  
  
Gradually, with effort and an expression that clearly revealed the scars on her soul, Parker looked up at Jarod through her own eyes.  
  
"No... why did you do this to me...."  
  
"Shhh. You're okay now. Relax."  
  
As Methos had done for him twice before, Jarod now held Parker. With no more secrets to search for, with so many hidden horrors no longer locked away, she sought frantically for words to express her anguish, but could find none. She cried soundlessly, head buried deeply in Jarod's shoulder, until she had purged all she could for that moment in time and slowly pulled away, strong enough now to sit up on her own without his support, but not spurning the arm he left wrapped around her back.  
  
"If you want to try and talk now..."  
  
"No. Not now, maybe not ever. Just.... help me out of here. This foot.... I don't know if..."  
  
"It's okay. I understand." he reassured her, slipping his arm away from her back, standing and moving in front of her. Crossing his hands one over the other, he offered them to her. She grasped them tightly and together they managed to get her into a standing position. For the next few moments, she leaned on the wall, while he switched from being a crane to being a crutch. "Okay. Lean on me as much as you need to, alright? Here we go."  
  
Moving slowly, in deference to Parker's sore muscles, unsure balance and darkness adjusted eyesight, Jarod walked her into the living room and lowered her gently into a chair while he moved to the kitchen to find the other two.  
  
"Methos? Duncan? Are you out here?"  
  
Hearing their names, the two Immortals strolled in from the backyard.  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"She's... emotionally, she's better. I left her in the living room. How's dinner coming? It smells fantastic."  
  
"Alone?! You just.... left her in there.... alone?!?"  
  
"I'm not stealing the DVD player for God's sake." Parker announced from the doorway behind Jarod as she limp/hopped a step into the kitchen. "I'm not running away, either. Not just yet, anyway. That does smell good. Steaks?"  
  
"I told you to stay there and I'd come get you. You shouldn't be putting any weight on that foot."  
  
"Yeah. Well, in case you haven't noticed, obeying isn't something I do well. I could smell the food all the way out there."  
  
"And you're ravenous. You have a right to be." Methos said, striding purposefully forward and sweeping Parker into his arms and over to one of the chairs at the table before she could think, never mind protest. "Which foot?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Do you want dinner or not?" he asked her, a hint of a smile creeping over his lips.  
  
"After those disgusting soy shakes? Damn right I want dinner." she replied, grimly pushing down the pain.  
  
"Well? Which foot?"  
  
"Left."  
  
Heel first, Methos slid both of Parker's shoes off with extreme gentleness and care and began to examine the left instep.  
  
"So. What happened?"  
  
"I kicked the door a few times."  
  
"A few. What's a few?"  
  
"Twenty. Thirty. Who was coun-owwww!"  
  
"Sorry. Checking for broken bones."  
  
"And?"  
  
"About twenty or thirty. One for each kick. Swelling, bruising. You've mucked it up well enough."  
  
"Great. How long before it's back to normal?"  
  
"Six, maybe eight weeks. These tiny bones almost never heal perfectly, though. You'll probably always have to be easy on it. Might limp a little if you push too hard. Look. I'm really sorry...."  
  
"Don't. I'm the one who kicked the idiot door. I'll deal with the consequences of being an idiot. Besides. What you gave me... the foot is more than worth it."  
  
"I can ace-bandage this, but you'll have to get a cast put on at first opportunity. Yes?"  
  
"I understand."  
  
Distinctly uncomfortable and more than a little worried that Parker was still in a mood to disembowel him, Duncan grabbed a platter and began to slide toward the door to the back patio to get the steaks. When she called to him over her shoulder he stopped, grinning broadly, his fears erased by the obvious amusement in her voice.  
  
"Hey, tall dark and arrogant."  
  
"Yes, deep, dark and dangerous?"  
  
"Mine are rare, right?"  
  
"Of course. What else?" he laughed as he exited the room.  
  
"Do you want to do the bandage now, or after dinner?"  
  
"You will stay in this chair for a while I assume? No more gallivanting off when someone tells you to stay put?"  
  
"I don't guarantee anything..... but it's more than likely."  
  
"Then a couple pain reliever should hold you until you can get some food in you."  
  
"I don't guarantee that either."  
  
"We can hope. We'll try. If you need more, speak up and I'll get you something stronger, but that stomach of yours needs a delicate touch when it comes to meds, darlin'."  
  
Vaguely, Parker considered throwing out a sharp retort about knowing perfectly well what her body needed, but Jarod distracted her. She watched him retrieve salad ingredients from the refrigerator, line them up neatly on the counter, then replace each in its proper spot after he was finished with it. The palpable tension flowing off his body was, she strongly suspected, somehow related to her, and the cause, whatever it might be, would have to be dealt with before it built a barrier between them that neither would be able to breach.  
  
"Jarod. Come sit down by me."  
  
"I'm not finished."  
  
"Now. Please."  
  
"No. We all need to eat right now. Whatever it is, it will wait."  
  
As Methos was walking toward the counter to try and talk Jarod into stopping and getting the problem off his chest, Duncan re-entered with the steaks, the oven timer announced the ready state of Methos' famous garlic-chive bread sticks and any serious discussions were put on hold.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I thought you'd be happy. As far as I was concerned you guys had as much chance of turning my head around as you would of spitting on Raines and living, but you did it, Jarod. I know the truth about my father.... about a lot of things, and it was truth I had a right to know. Derail the Jarod guilt express, would you?"  
  
"You have to understand.... it's not all about this week. Part of me still believes if I'd made you go that night... if I'd gone with you...."  
  
"Stop it, Jarod. Just stop, okay? I was thirteen. I would never have abandoned the only parent I had left, and you know that."  
  
Walking up behind him, Methos reached out and tentatively laid an easy hand on Jarod's shoulder.  
  
"Suffering in the name of a right cause, remember? She'll be alright, son."  
  
When Jarod slowly removed the older man's hand and, without speaking, rose and began to gather dishes and silver for washing, Methos smiled tightly and tried to look as if he understood, though anyone who truly knew him could have easily read the truth in his eyes, as Duncan did when he emerged from the fridge with a fresh beer and wandered back to the table.  
  
"Patience, remember? In time, you two will be as close as you ever were." Duncan reminded his best friend quietly, though he knew the words were falling on deaf ears.  
  
"I'll gonna... head to bed I guess. Take the boots off before you come up, tonight, Highlander. You woke me up clodhopping upstairs in those monstrosities last evening."  
  
For the briefest of moments, Duncan wanted to chase after him, drag him back and force him and Jarod to settle the matter, but immediately thought better of it and let him go.  
  
"Jarod. You know how you asked me to answer your e-mail for you so you wouldn't have to deal with it until this whole thing was resolved? I have a question."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"What kind of man is Chris Broots? No kindnesses, no flowery praise. I need it straight up. What kind of person is he really?"  
  
Surprised, Jarod halted in the middle of rinsing a plate, laid it down and turned to face Duncan.  
  
"He's a good man. He loves his daughter more than his own life. He's strong.... and courageous. He can still trust despite all the years he's spent at the Centre. I think I could like him if we ever got to spend time together without Centre interference."  
  
"Okay. That's enough of a testimonial for me."  
  
"I'm glad, but what's all this about, Duncan?"  
  
"Yes. I'd like to know too." Parker interjected, concern clouding her features. "Is he alright?"  
  
"Not precisely. I got a message from your Sydney a day or two ago. It seems that, thanks to the Centre, Mister Broots has developed some.... bizarre abilities that would make a prime target if his employers could get their hands on him. He's quite disturbed by whatever it is he can do and he needs a few weeks and a competent therapist, or pair of them, to help him cope. Sydney has asked that someone come out to Maryland, pick up your friend and get him someplace safe. I had volunteered Methos and myself. If you'd had anything negative to say I would have cried off, but since you didn't, I guess it's on."  
  
"He deserves all the help we can give him. Is he safe for now?"  
  
"Sounds like it. He's in hiding in a small monastery right in the middle of Blue Cove. The Centre thinks he's dead."  
  
"Right under their noses. Very nice, Sydney." Parker mused. "When are you going?"  
  
"In a few days. He should be well protected till then."  
  
"Good. I should be ready to travel when you are." she murmured, trying to stand before she remembered she had a broken foot. "Damn!" she swore, quickly sitting again.  
  
"Ready? You can't even walk on your own right now."  
  
"Maybe, but I have enough credit cards to hire ten drivers for my gorgeous new convertible, never mind go to a drug store and buy a pair of crutches... and you need a distraction to keep all those microscopic Centre minds occupied."  
  
"True enough. You sure you're willing to be that? It could get sticky."  
  
"More than. Jarod. Can I get a shoulder to help me upstairs?"  
  
"Of course. Always."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hours later, Parker and Jarod sat together on the window-seat in the bedroom she'd chosen, she in the penoir set and robe she'd woken up in the first morning, he still in the clothes he'd worn to dinner. Off and on they talked quietly, but, for the most part, they allowed the silence to swallow them, finding no need to disturb it. When Jarod finally spoke up after a stretch of nearly forty minutes, it startled Parker slightly and she jumped, chuckling softly at herself.  
  
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean...."  
  
"It's okay. I know. What were you saying?"  
  
"Nothing, really. I.... just wondered what you were thinking. You looked so sad, as if you couldn't find space inside for all the pain, but you were trying not to let it out either."  
  
"That doesn't even half cover it." she responded bitterly. "Broots is in deep. If he doesn't get out of there soon, they'll find him, drag him back to the Centre.... and dissect him. I can finally accept what a.... manipulative, double-dealing con man my father really is. Sad? Sad is the least I have every right to be. You didn't look so zippedee-doo-dah yourself in the kitchen after dinner. What's up between you and.... what was it you called him?"  
  
"Methos. He goes by Adam most of the time."  
  
"Yeah. Adam. That's the name he gave me when he brought me here in the limo. So? What happened? Weren't you two best buddies?"  
  
"Try and remember when I came to see you in the Pretender cubicle a day or two ago. Picture what was going on in the minutes just before you passed out."  
  
"Damn. That's right! You were fading out too. You said... something strange. It made me wonder.... You knew it was going to happen, didn't you? Of course you did. This was your project from the start. So how did it get messed up?"  
  
"It didn't. Methos pushed up the schedule. When he put you in the other cell.... he came back, locked the door, took my copy of the remote.... and just waited for me to wake up."  
  
"You can't be serious."  
  
Slowly, Jarod nodded his head.  
  
"He did the same thing to me that we've been putting you through, in a greatly scaled down version, of course. I... when I put this hand through the window.... I had no clue why. I wasn't even aware of what I'd done." Jarod told her, staring down at his bandaged left hand and rubbing it absently as he talked. "I didn't know why I've been getting so angry lately, why I couldn't control it when I did.... He showed me why. I cried like a baby... told him things I've never told anyone, things I didn't even know I knew.... I understand, now. A lot of things are so much clearer...."  
  
Reaching out, Parker laid her hands over his, caught, and held, his eyes and spoke the name he couldn't.  
  
"Sydney?"  
  
Her insight caught him a little by surprise. He sat an inch or two straighter, then, after a moment, gave her a genuine smile. "You want to hear something else you don't know? He hates himself for all of it. All the years of your life he wasted, all the pain you went through...Once he knew the truth, he couldn't help but despise what they turned him into. His brother, my mother, your family.... we've all lost precious people and time to that place, Jarod. We all have a score to settle.... but that will probably never happen."  
  
"I'm not interested in revenge much, anymore. Besides, it's too late. The damage is done. He can regret whatever he wants for as long as he cares to. It won't change anything."  
  
"Then we have to change. Listen." she stated muzzily, shaking herself when she realized she was much wearier than she'd been even a few minutes before. "Can I ask your opinion on something?"  
  
"Of course. Go on."  
  
"What do I do with all the.... memories, now? I'm not used to all this being in my head." she told him, covering an immense yawn.  
  
"Use them. Cherish having more of Catherine to remember. That's enough for tonight. It's time for you to get some sleep. Let me help you over to the bed."  
  
"No. I want to talk."  
  
"Sleep. You need sleep. Let's go." he scolded her, lifting her to her feet and draping one of her arms over his shoulder.  
  
"With all this running around in my brain, I'll never get any rest. Look. I'm a grown woman. I don't have to go to bed if I don't damn well want to!" she fussed as he moved her inexorably toward the bed in the middle of the room.  
  
"Maybe you will, maybe you won't. At least give it a shot...."  
  
Abruptly Parker's face drained of all color and she began gasping for breath. Pulling away from Jarod's support, she tried to escape the room entirely and immediately fell to the floor. When Jarod rushed to try and comfort her, she lashed out at him for several seconds, mumbling incoherently and weeping as if she were in fear of her life. Despite her nails flashing only inches from his face, Jarod lifted her bodily onto the bed and sat close to her, trying anything to bring her down.  
  
"Melissa! Stop it! It's me. It's just Jarod! You're alright. Calm down. It's okay. You're safe. Relax. That's it."  
  
"Jarod. I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't.... I wasn't here."  
  
"I know. It's alright now. Do you want to tell me where you were?"  
  
"The Centre. You know, the infirmary has always creeped me out. I've never liked going down there. Now I know why. I can't believe he'd let them.... him do that to me! I trusted him.... I was a child for God sakes! I was his child...."  
  
Though he could feel her pain almost as deeply as she did, Jarod composed himself and gently urged her to continue.  
  
"Who? What did he do?"  
  
"Raines! I guess.... when you said shot.... that must have touched off the memory. Daddy.... after he pulled me out of that hole.... he let Raines inject me with Styx! God! No wonder I couldn't remember! Those two.... bastards tried to wipe out the better part of eight years of my life!"  
  
Scooting closer, Jarod pulled her into the comforting circle of his arms. She went willingly, finding the burden of this new knowledge too much to bear alone and grateful that, even after all she'd put him through over the years, Jarod was still willing to take part of her pain on himself, still willing to be a friend.  
  
When he finally lifted her away from his shoulder several minutes later, Parker was ninety percent of the way to being fully asleep and working diligently on the last ten percent. Laying her smoothly back onto the pillow, he watched her eyelids flutter as if she were fighting the pull of the rest she needed so badly and tried to quietly soothe her back under.  
  
"No, no. Sleep, now. You're safe. Sleep."  
  
"Stay. Just until I fall asleep."  
  
"Alright. Now, go to sleep."  
  
"Not unless you stay. I want to see you here when I wake up, you hear me? The exact second."  
  
"I'll be here. Hush. Time to rest."  
  
"Up here." she indicated groggily, patting the spot next to her on the bed. "Just as long as you don't get ideas. I might have a chance with Duncan. Never know..."  
  
Standing, Jarod moved around the bed and climbed up beside Parker, his back against the headboard, one hand slowly stroking her hair to ease her into sleep.  
  
"We made it to the white zone, Missy. You're safe here. Noone will hurt you. Sleep, now. White zone means peace...."  
  
"Here find... the Police."  
  
"Something like that. Shhh."  
  
"There's a little black spot on my tie today...."  
  
Pursing his lips tightly, Jarod barely managed not to laugh at her mangling of the song's lyrics.   
  
"Missy, c'mon. I'd like to rest too, you know."  
  
"King of stains.... always be king of stains...."  
  
This time Jarod couldn't restrain himself.  
  
"It's king of pain."  
  
"What? It's not about a dry-cleaner?"  
  
Wrapped in mutual mirth now, both decided to push sleep back a little longer. Jarod, eyes half closed, rifled through his fertile imagination and began to spin a fairy tale for Parker. Just as she had done as a little girl when he'd announced a story was due, she gazed into his face, enraptured with the images and words he plucked, seemingly from thin air, and utterly lost in the story. It was, of course, her story. Jarod ended it as all proper fairy tales end, with the rescue and redemption of the lost princess and happily ever after. Moments after the final syllable drifted off his tongue, both were deeply asleep, finally having found some measure of peace with their pasts, their futures and themselves.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
FOLLOWING MORNING: BLUE COVE  
  
"You know what will happen the minute you walk in that door, Abe. Try not to show them fear. Men like your Dr. Raines feed on fear. It's ambrosia to them."  
  
"I know. I've prepared myself for every eventuality."  
  
"Even death?"  
  
"That's why I wanted to talk to you. Before I'll be able to get any sleep tonight... there are things I must tell someone. I don't expect or deserve absolution, Michael... I only ask you not to judge me."  
  
"Every soul deserves absolution, Sydney. Some just find it hard to accept."  
  
"Michael...."  
  
"I know. Fine. Enough sermonizing. Begin whenever you're ready."  
  
"I have sinned, father. I ask blessings, not for myself, but for those I care for. It's been three years since my last confession..."  
  
Seated in his car, Sydney stared out at the main parking lot for the Centre and tried to shake off the tension in his shoulders and the nausea caused by his growing fear. Rehashing the previous evening's conversation with Michael and his good-byes to Broots and Terri were the last stalling tactic he had left, so he used them only reluctantly.  
  
When he knew he could wait no longer, he grasped his briefcase firmly and stepped out of the car, locking the doors behind him out of habit, even though he knew that if he'd left anything there he might care about losing, the point could soon be moot.  
  
As he strolled into the ground floor lobby, the guard at the security desk gave him a brief look, dropped his eyes back to his desk then gazed at Sydney with far more interest.  
  
"Sir. Please stay where you are. I have orders...."  
  
"I know. I'll go willingly."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I have no choice in this. I hope you understand." the guard told him as he approached, the handcuffs he carried gleaming in the late morning sun streaming through the glass doors behind Sydney. "Please, don't fight me, doctor. I've always respected you and you've never been anything but kind to me. If I had any leeway here..."  
  
His expression falling as sorrow, regret and fear threatened to overwhelm him, Sydney allowed his case to drop to the floor and held out his hands. Despite his roiling emotions, he managed not to wince or turn his head as the metal restraints were locked around his wrists. "Are they too tight?"  
  
"No. No, they're... just fine."  
  
"Good. If you'd walk ahead of me, doctor?"  
  
"Am I allowed to know where I'm being taken?"  
  
"My orders are to place you in one of the lower level holding cells until Major Hilliard and the Triumvirate can be contacted."  
  
"Hilliard? I don't know the name. It seems things have changed quite a bit since I've been gone."  
  
"More than you know, doc. More than you could ever guess." the guard mumbled as the doors slid closed in front of the two men. This motion broke Sydney's resolve. This time he did turn his eyes away, suddenly sensing his chances of survival vanishing as sharply and completely as the world beyond the elevator just had. As the car began to drop, he found he was unable to convince himself that what awaited him at the end of the brief journey was not the flames of eternal torment and a cheery greeting from the prince of darkness himself.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
In an anteroom a few yards from the holding cells, Raines argued for his role in Sydney's questioning, though the looks his superior was giving him said they both knew who would win.  
  
"No, Raines. No more discussion. I'll interrogate Doctor Abelard. You have far too much emotion invested here to do the job properly. Besides, you have lost sheep to find. Go do it."  
  
"I can break him, sir. Despite whatever posturing Sydney does for others' benefit, he is afraid of me.... afraid of what I can do to him. All I ask...."  
  
"Raines."  
  
His name, and the tone in which it was spoken, were all that was needed to gain Raines' immediate compliance.  
  
"I understand, sir."  
  
Once Raines had exited, Major Hilliard strolled to a small mirror on the left hand wall and spent a moment studying his reflection before allowing a hint of a satisfied smile to touch his mouth. Continuing out into the corridor, he briefly reviewed his plan for questioning Sydney Abelard, knowing he would have the truth from the man, but content not to set a time limit on getting it or to consider the final disposition of the nuisance the doctor had become. His unique sensibilities were quietly reminding him that he hadn't indulged himself in quite a while. Perhaps after he had the information the Tower required... and the good doctor had begged for release at least a few times, he'd decide how painful the man's last moments would be.  
  
The Triumvirate had duly warned him that Abelard was stubborn, strong willed and wasn't likely to surrender easily. He hadn't bothered to tell them that he wouldn't have accepted the assignment if the subject had been anything less. Breaking spineless blobs of jelly was no challenge at all, and he never took on anything unless it promised a challenge.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Hilliard. Still with us, are you?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Of course. We were discussing the interrogation, weren't we?"  
  
"Mister Broots."  
  
Lowering the volume on the speakerphone just a little in deference to the migraine he could feel on an approach vector, Major Hilliard rubbed his eyes and consulted his notes from the nine hours he'd just spent with Sydney.  
  
"Oh, yes. My apologies, sir. Abelard is just as strong as you said, and highly intelligent. He quite wore me out. Well, let's see. Firstly, according to the good doctor, our missing comp-tech is dead."  
  
"You can't be serious. When?"  
  
"A day or two ago, if Abelard can be believed. His story is that the injury Broots received in the hit and run turned into a ruptured disk. He was rushed to the hospital and died on the table before they could even make an incision. Apparently he was given a heavy painkiller before they took him into the O.R... and he went into convulsions moments later. Nothing they tried worked and eventually, his heart stopped. All resuscitative efforts failed."  
  
"We know he's lying. The report from the house proves it."  
  
"I did ask about that. He claims he and Broots were in the ambulance at the time, so obviously his house was being burglarized. He even made me promise to check on any damage and report the incident to his insurance."  
  
"I reiterate, he's lying."  
  
"I considered it, but his grief is absolutely genuine. You can't fake the emotional impact of losing someone so close. He is holding back or lying about something.... but not about that."  
  
When Raines chose that moment to glide into the anteroom, Hilliard picked up the receiver and irritatedly stabbed the button that disengaged the speakerphone. "No sir, we aren't. Unexpected company. Yes. Yes, I thought as much. Of course. Thank you, sir. No, I do appreciate being given this chance... and the responsibilities, yes, sir. No. It shouldn't even take a month to recover Jarod, sir, and within that month this place will be running efficiently and properly. As it should, yes, sir. No. I won't require any sweepers. They have their place, sir, it just isn't.... That's what he's used to, sir. A radical change in tactics is what I had in mind. No hordes of black cars and black suits, just Miss Parker and I and a pair of hand-held tranq guns should be all I'll need. And a new comp-tech. Of course. I do believe she will turn up, sir. Jarod has a code of ethics. It may not be ours, but we'll remedy that soon enough. He will release her when whatever he's attempting fails. She's far too strong to.... no, sir. I'm not finished with Sydney's debrief yet. I'll fax my initial report now, sir. Very good. God speed."  
  
Standing, Hilliard gathered a few papers from the desk, strolled to the collection of machines behind him and began to fax his report to the Tower. "Yes, Raines. What is it?"  
  
"Sydney...."  
  
"You're not to be privy to that information."  
  
"The Tower..."  
  
"Yes, it's by their order."  
  
"At least... his death. It will be lingering I hope?"  
  
Turning back as the last page fed itself into the device, Hilliard frowned deeply at Raines, wondering if something other than oxygen flowed through the clear tubes into his lungs.  
  
"Sometimes... you disturb me, Raines. Dr. Abelard and I have a few more issues to discuss before I make a final determination. And just in case you're considering throwing your two cents in on that subject, I'd keep it to yourself. Unless you really feel like joining Sydney in the holding cells, that is."  
  
"Yes... sir."  
  
"Progress report on the search for Miss Parker?"  
  
"There's no sign... of either of them. Parker and Lyle have both disappeared off the face of the earth."  
  
"I didn't ask about Lyle."  
  
"No, sir, but..."  
  
"Parker."  
  
"Yes. The only information we have comes from Jarod and is therefore totally untrustworthy. She could be dead and buried and he'd tell us she's vacationing in Acapulco."  
  
"I have to disagree. Jarod will lie to help others, but in all other situations, he'll either say nothing or tell the truth. He also abhors killing. There was only the one incident and that.... well, he was faced with Broots' death wasn't he? And the deaths of millions more, if he'd allowed Damon to go free. His conscience wouldn't stand for it."  
  
"We still haven't been able to replace Damon. That's just one of many things I'd love to personally take out of Sydney's hide...."  
  
"Now, you see, that's precisely what I was saying earlier. You're far too emotionally entangled in this situation. I'm taking over the search for Parker. You.... you go back to your dungeon and play with your experiments.... or whatever it is you do down there."  
  
"I resent the implications of that statement... sir. I am a scientist of the highest order..."  
  
"No, you were. Now you're an old man who's spent his life torturing children and adults because it's one of his great joys. And we've been paying you for it, as well."  
  
"Mister Parker and I...."  
  
".... are significant parts of the myriad problems this facility suffers from. He appears to have taken himself out of the big picture, and unless you get with the program, and damn fast, I've been authorized to do the same for you."  
  
Beginning to push to his feet, Raines, his face brick red with anger, lips tinged blue from the stress on his breathing, started a protest but only managed a few words before Hilliard moved swiftly around the desk and, literally, got in his face, forcing him back into his seat.  
  
"No. The Triumvirate would never...."  
  
"Wouldn't they? Do you think there's a thing that you and Lyle have ever done here or anywhere that the Triumvirate doesn't know about? His little Asian.... hobby and the unauthorized black op he was running out of Blue Cove Hospital have made him a vulnerability the Tower can no longer afford. The search for him has been called off. Your failures haven't made you a liability on that scale yet, doctor, but they easily could. I'd say it's time for you to start being very quiet and very invisible until, and unless, you do something useful and miraculous to benefit the Centre's interests."  
  
Finally straightening away from Raines, the major moved away toward the far corner of the room where a makeshift bar setup had been laid out and poured himself a small measure of sherry.  
  
"Sir. As I came in I heard something about Jarod...."  
  
"I'm taking over his retrieval, and the Centre as well, for that matter. Your current projects are on hold until I have a chance to look into all of them thoroughly. Those that meet with my approval will continue. I'll be giving you other assignments as time goes on."  
  
"Sir... please don't do this. I can bring Jarod home...." Raines wheedled, rising all the way to his feet this time and moving toward where Hilliard stood.  
  
"Stop. You aren't making my migraine any better, Raines. Go home, before I have to call the Tower back and tell them you can't even succeed at obeying a direct order."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Once the doors were closed and secured behind Raines, Hilliard moved back to the desk and sat heavily in the padded chair, the weight of all he'd just taken on falling suddenly on his shoulders. Quickly dry-swallowing a pill to quash the full attack of the migraine, he leaned back and began to mentally redecorate Mister Parker's office to his taste, then, working out from there, restyled the entire Centre complex.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	6. Epilogue

Epilogue:  
  
1 WEEK LATER:  
  
"You sure you've had enough time now, love?"  
  
"Yes, Duncan. I'm fine. The foot is healing, the rest of me will eventually follow and Broots needs you."  
  
"Yes. He does. I'll go get himself off the couch in the T.V. room, then. Be right with you."  
  
Jarod entered just then, speaking low to Macleod as they passed.  
  
"Don't hurry."  
  
"Gotcha, mate."  
  
"Jarod. What's that?" Molly greeted him, referring to the blue silk wrapped package he held in his hands.  
  
"For you."  
  
"I can't. If I go back with anything brand new and shiny hanging around my neck or off my ears...."  
  
"It isn't jewelry. Just... open it."  
  
Still wary, Parker cautiously slid the ribbon off and peeled away the wrapping which revealed itself to be a silk scarf, imprinted everywhere with the Chinese symbol for peace. The box contained two disks, one large, one small.  
  
"The CD's for the car. The DSA.... is for now. Or whenever else you feel like it."  
  
Having only gained two days distance from the images that went with the audio she'd heard in the immersion cell, Parker pushed the smaller disk back at Jarod.  
  
"What's on it?"  
  
"Not that. I would never.... I promised you'd never have to see that again."  
  
"Yeah, I will, but it's alright. I've had half the truth in my head for so long, the whole thing feels better.... even when it hurts. Answer the question."  
  
"I promise, it's a good memory. The player is over there on the table. Go push it in. Please?"  
  
As she hauled herself to the couch, dropped her crutches and lowered herself onto the cushion, Jarod moved just close enough to lay a hand on her shoulder, trying to maintain the physical, and emotional, distance he knew he would need in order to be able to let her go.  
  
As the disk slid into place and the images faded into clarity before her, Parker gasped audibly. Jarod had not lied. It was a good memory, and one noone could ever make her surrender.  
  
%%%%He's a striking young man, but in his eyes you can see he doesn't know that. He knows only what he is told, and he has never been told what a beautiful child he is, or what a handsome man he will grow up to be. When the strange creature walks toward him from the other side of the glass partition, he is stunned. He has seen pictures and anatomy texts but this is a radical departure....%%%%  
  
"You're.... you're a girl."  
  
%%%%The only response from the young woman before him is a swift nod.%%%%  
  
"I'm Jarod. What's your name?"  
  
%%%%This question results in the girl whipping a tense glance over her left shoulder at a shadowy figure watching from a doorway behind her. Receiving a negative response, she returns her gaze to the boy, places her hand on the glass exactly where his lies and provides the only answer she can before she is beckoned away.%%%%  
  
"Miss Parker."  
  
%%%%Her eyes gleaming with curiosity, but also with fear, she races back to the shadow in the door, leaving poor Jarod speechless, transported by a rapidly fading palm-print on the other side of the glass.%%%%  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Stretched the length of the T.V. room sofa, his head sunk deeply into a pile of pillows, Methos watched the end credits of Ghost slide up the screen, then gazed down at Macleod, who was sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch, knees drawn up to his chest.  
  
"Ditto. I get it now."  
  
"Thought you might."  
  
"Great movie. That last part.... spectacular. You feel like rousin' yourself for Mass Sunday?"  
  
Grinning broadly, Macleod spoke to what Methos hadn't said.  
  
"Scared me into straight into confession the first time I saw it. If we're back, yeah, why not? So? Any comment?"  
  
A gentle smile tugging at his lips, Methos pushed up to a sitting position. Swinging his legs down, he placed one foot on either side of Macleod, grasped his friend's temples and tilted the others' head back until their eyes met.  
  
"Ditto to you too, Mac."  
  
Before any emotional overflow could betray him, Duncan rose to his feet and suggested they go and check on Jarod and Parker. Methos, also understanding what had not been said, followed without speaking further.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you cry."  
  
"No. You're such a big part of me, Jarod, of my heart and my memories.... How could I have denied that for so long.... while I clung to.... and idolized.... and excused the man who lied to me and used me over and over and over."  
  
"I did the same thing. They made sure I thought Sydney was all I had, the only one left who would take care of me. Even after I escaped, I kept running to him for advice, calling just to know he was still there to pick up a phone."  
  
"And now he may not be."  
  
"He isn't dead. I'd know. Part of me will go with him when he.... It doesn't change my decision."  
  
Reading him again, Parker spoke without thinking it through.  
  
"You're cutting off contact."  
  
Jarod nodded sadly.  
  
"I have to. I should have done it a long time ago, but I wasn't strong enough until now." he responded, retrieving the disk and closing the player. "I wanted to e-mail, but I couldn't be sure who'd get it.... if he didn't."  
  
Moving close to his side, Parker lowered her chin onto his shoulder, intending to try and comfort him, but a scar on the nape of his neck pulled her attention there.  
  
"What is this, Jarod?" she asked, stroking a finger over the mark.  
  
"What?"  
  
"This surgical scar. You're telling me you had no idea this was back here?"  
  
"No. Noone ever mentioned it before. What are you saying?"  
  
"I'm not sure. It's old... and very small. It could be something else...."  
  
"Turn around."  
  
Just as Duncan and Methos strolled back into the room, Jarod found a similar scar at the base of Parkers' neck.  
  
"So? Anything?"  
  
"Yes. The same mark." he told her quietly.  
  
When she faced him again, he saw distinct fear in her blue eyes.  
  
"What does this mean, Jarod? I don't...."  
  
"It changes nothing. Broots still needs help, you still need to get back to work."  
  
"But..."  
  
"No. I'll look into this. You remember what we said?"  
  
"Sydney's office, Monday, two weeks."  
  
"Right. I'll call you then. Get going. She's ready, guys. Her bags are in the car."  
  
"Jarod...."  
  
"Go. If you don't do it now....."  
  
Silently, her expression shining with repressed fears and trust that he   
would discover the answers if they were anywhere to be found, Parker turned and followed Duncan and Methos out the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
CHARLESTON AIRPORT  
  
"See you in Blue Cove in three days, love." Duncan told Parker as she slipped into the backseat of her car. When he realized her hand was trembling, he grasped it tightly. "Go on, then. I hate to see you do it, but if you can't convince me, you're dead meat when you walk back in there. Show me."  
  
Staring straight ahead, Parker shut her eyes and took several deep breaths. The change in her over the next several minutes would have astonished anyone who watched it happen. The haughtiness slipped back into her expression and the ice back into her eyes. When she slipped her sunglasses back on and pulled her hand abruptly out of his grip, he believed. "Bloody hell. You told me on the plane, but I didn't think...."  
  
Keeping her "pissed off cobra" smile in place, she looked up, slid the glasses half way down and gave him the note of reassurance he needed.  
  
"In the immortal words of John Lennon, 'Pauly. It's only me'. Three days."  
  
"Yeah. 'Till then." he responded as he walked back to the plane backwards, watching her car until it vanished up the highway. When he stumbled on the edge of the stairs to the Lear, unable to see them, Methos, sitting on the fourth step waiting for him, saved him from a nasty fall and dragged him up into the plane, laughing like a madman.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A few miles down the highway, Parker handed the driver the CD Jarod had given her and asked him to slip it into the player. As the first song began, she noticed a small piece of paper folded up in the jewel case, pulled it out and opened it.  
  
Missy,  
  
They're all for you. Every song. I didn't dare try to say these things before you left, so....  
Anyway. I think you already knew most of this, but I decided you should hear it from them.  
Always yours,  
Jarod.  
  
  
When she finally tuned in to the words pouring from the speakers behind her head the composure she'd managed to hold together up until that point crumbled. Tears slipping slowly down her cheeks, she fumbled for a tissue in her purse and elsewhere, but could find nothing suitable, and so, decided to let them flow, the songs Jarod had chosen for her filling, then overflowing, her heart...  
  
* You've got such a pretty smile, it's a shame the things you hide behind it...  
  
let 'em go, give it up for a while, let 'em free and we will both go find it....  
  
Step away then, from the edge... Come back away, come back away.... I am here and I will be forever... Trust me and don't keep that on the inside... I know the feeling of alone.... *  
  
  
* I know you haven't made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong.  
  
I knew it from the moment that we met. There's no doubt in my mind where you belong... *  
  
* Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever gonna make it home again, it's so far out of sight.  
I really need someone to talk to, and nobody else, knows how to comfort me tonight. Snow is cold, rain is wet, chills my soul right down to the marrow... *  
  
  
* Stones would play, inside her head, and where they lay, she made her bed....  
and she would ache for love and get but stones. *  
  
  
* It's a long way, baby, in the wrong direction,  
  
there's a few more bruises, if that's the way you insist on heading....  
  
Take this moment Mary Jane and be selfish. Worry not about the cars that go by.  
  
Cause all that matters Mary Jane is your freedom, so keep warm my dear, keep dry.... *  
  
  
* I was the first one to really know your name, you were the first one for me,   
oh, everyone knew but me,  
  
You were the first one to ever let me down, and I was just the last to know.... *  
  
  
* Trust is a tightrope we all have to walk, baby don't be afraid, I won't let you fall.  
  
You can count on the sun to rise, and the stars to come out at night, as long as there's air to breathe, you'll always be loved by me.... *  
  
  
* When winter comes in summer, when there's no more forever...  
  
Sure you've heard these words before, and I know it's hard for you to trust them once more...   
  
a broken heart is scared of breakin' again... you gotta believe me, I'll never leave you, you'll never cry unless I am there, and I will always be there... you will always have all my love...   
  
when the stars all decide to stop shining... when lies become the truth... that's when I'll stop loving you... every day of my life... *  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
THREE DAYS LATER: A MOTEL OUTSIDE BLUE COVE   
  
"You have to go."  
  
"I know. Don't want to, but...."  
  
"Hey. Broots is more important." Parker reminded Duncan distractedly as she scowled at herself in the lopsided mirror in his hotel room.  
  
"Stop that. What kind of a look is that for a stunningly beautiful woman to give herself?"  
  
"Please." she growled, producing an even more disgusted glare. "I hardly think...."  
  
Stepping between Parker and the mirror, Macleod grasped her chin firmly and brought her eyes up to meet his.  
  
"Hasn't anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"  
  
"Noone who didn't want something out of it."  
  
"C'mon...."  
  
"My mother."  
  
"Since then there's been noone." Duncan said as he crouched in front of the woman perched on the end of the bed. He'd considered phrasing it as a question, but was forced to admit that, as far as she was concerned, he was stating fact.  
  
"Only Jarod. He kept sending me things, a painting, a stained glass piece he'd made... he saw what I couldn't.... can't."  
  
"I can. Someday... I'll make you see it too. You are, truly, beautiful, in every imaginable way...."  
  
"Mac. I'm sorry, mate, but we have to move out and she has to get to the Centre."  
  
"I know. What is your problem?"  
  
Methos continued scratching under the collar and inside the sleeves of the cassock he wore.  
  
"These modern fabrics are.... argghhh... my problem! Linen never did this to me!"  
  
Rising, after a final smile for Parker, Mac strode to where Methos stood and grabbed his hands.  
  
"Yes. Well, you can't go into the abbey acting as if you lost your flea collar. Cut it out."  
  
"I'll.... try. Damnable rayon and nylon... and all the other "ons"! Urrrr!" he growled, giving in to a last furious round of scratching before settling down and trying to deal with it. With the help of her crutches, Parker also stood, straightened her clothes gave Duncan a swift one-armed embrace and led the way out to the parking lot and their cars.  
  
"I'll see you in a couple months then?"  
  
"If I can get away. After this little escapade, they'll be keeping an eye on me for a while."  
  
"That's how we'll leave it then. I'll talk to you soon."  
  
"Good luck. Take good care of Broots and Debbie and tell him I'll miss him."  
  
"We will." Methos told her, giving her a quick hug of his own. "Stay safe, sweetheart. Safeguard the little one."  
  
"I promise. Missy will be alright."  
  
"You will call when you're ready to...."  
  
"I said I would. Get going you two. Time's short."  
  
As Parker moved away and struggled into the passenger seat of the car, Duncan slipped the hood of his cassock up over his head, turned to lock the door to the room and fumbled with getting the keys into his pants pocket under the ankle length robe, distracting himself from the sight of Melissa and the convertible driving away. Methos watched in his stead.  
  
"Okay. She's off."  
  
"I hate this. I promised myself.... after Tessa, I swore.... never again. My heart won't take it..."  
  
"I've sworn up and down a million times, but I know it will happen again. You don't choose love, Mac. Even if she was one of us, you still might lose her. She's taking the chance going back there. You can take the chance and really let her in. If a heart could never break..."  
  
"I know. Where's the romance in that? Let's go meet this Mister Broots, shall we?" Duncan suggested with forced brightness as he climbed into the sedan they'd rented at the airport.  
  
"We shall. On to more adventures?"  
  
"Misadventures, old friend."  
  
"Let's go knock some windmills flat on their arses, eh?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
END (For Now.... New series coming up soon....) 


End file.
